My Little Shinigami
by yukinomonogatari
Summary: When Alan fell in love with Eric, he never expected his dating life to be full of such thrills. Kissing, sobbing, plenty of blood, fighting, vengeful souls, lust, and that flamboyant woman Grell Sutcliffe sure make his cinematic record exciting. Pairing: AlanXEric/EricXAlan
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Grell is canonically a pre-operation male-to-female transgender woman. This fact is one oft-ignored by the fandom because she has a male voice actor, and due to transphobia or plain ignorance. Grell has extreme gender dysphoria, a medical condition where the gender assigned at birth doesn't match a person's perceived gender. This was documented even in the 1880s, when Grell is introduced, in cases like the Chevalier d'Eon (who lived as a woman and was accepted as such by the king despite being physically male) and Karl Heinrich Ulrich's idea of a female psyche in a male body. Grell always refers to herself using female pronouns and talks in a feminine manner, especially evident in the Japanese version. Grell also wears makeup and female clothes; gender is not determined by genitalia but is a psychological and sociological construction, and Grell identifies in every way as a lady. She strongly empathizes with Madam Red as Grell yearns to be a mother but is limited by her physical gender. However, her coworkers are blatantly disrespectful of Grell's identity, but the fandom still needs to respect Grell for who she is as a person. You can't be a true fan of Grell if you insult her gender identification. In the Kuroshitsuji Character Guide, Grell states that "what...has been my biggest complaint since birth is that I am not a woman [physically]. Really, I think God made a mistake...That's why right now, the thing I want to do most is have sex change. I'm serious you know?" Since this is canon, please refer to Grell with the correct female pronouns and don't troll with a comment that she is 'male.'

My Little Shinigami

Alan Humphries POV

Chapter 1

The best decision in my life was undoubtedly confessing my true feelings to my love. I'd been so used to tentative glances and flirty hints but expected Eric to confess first. Grell was exasperated by this 'typical example of male pride,' so she told me to 'quit being so naïve and tell him you love him already!' Following her advice, I tied a few Erica flowers with a ribbon and visited his room after work.

I remember that nothing ever made me so nervous. The shinigami exam didn't fluster me as the class nerd Grell studied with me. My first assignment didn't give me nerves, per say-it was a solemn occasion that I'd spent my whole life training for. Even the interview with a seasoned shinigami decked in real glasses was something I could handle. But if Eric didn't feel the same way about me, my life would shatter. I'm not usually that melodramatic, but I don't know how to handle losing love. Grell tells me that she regrets killing Madam Red every day, but it'd be even more regretful if she never opened her heart in the first place. I couldn't live my life yet deny my feelings for Eric.

My hands clutched the flowers tightly and the sound of crinkling stems cued a jackhammer in my ears. Reaching towards the door with a black glove soaked with sweat, I steeled myself to knock, but the door was jerked open. Eric looked at me with surprise and invited me into his room. "I was going to get a new book from the library, but that can wait," He said, tossing his paperback onto his bed. "So, what's up, Alan?"

My cheeks flushed red as I stared at his bare chest. At 10 o'clock at night, apparently he ditched his top and lounged around in shorts. I was not wearing my uniform, but this white shirt and gray sweatpants covered me. I wanted to touch that muscular skin, but my hands were too full and I was much too shy. "I-I brought these for you," I said, holding out the crushed flowers.

"Ah," Eric said, taking them. "Erica flowers. In the language of flowers, they mean-"

"-loneliness," I finished breathlessly. Both our minds recalled the time we had stayed for clean-up after a company party. Sitting in a park among humans, he led me to a spot in the woods that he would always retreat to when he skipped class, preferring to spend time among the trees and frogs and flowers. And both of us knew the significance of those tiny purple flowers. Once you share something like that, friendship is inevitable. I've always looked up to him since he has that tough-boy exterior but unconditionally helps a classmate in trouble. And he told me he thought it is admirable how I am the only shinigami who tries to understand humans. In the moonlight, he looked so beautiful. I never dreamed that I would dare ask him to reciprocate my love.

"So is it a special day today?" He asked, bringing me to the present.

"Eh?" was my flustered reply.

"It's not every day you give me flowers," Eric said with a smile. "I could get used to this."

I closed my eyes to gather my thoughts. "Yes, well…I have something to say. I mean, ask you."

"Yes?"

"See, Eric…I…really look up to you. Ever since we talked, you've been such a great friend to me. Being with you has made me so happy. But I think we should be more than that." That sounded greedy, but it's too late now to stop. My heart flipped around in my chest like a shinigami fighting a demon, but I pushed the words through my lips. "I've fallen in love with you. You are amazing and handsome and would be the perfect boyfriend. I'm sorry if you don't feel the same way about me, but I had to let you know. I love you, and I want to be yours."

Nervous sweat trickled down my back as he didn't reply and my breathing belied my inner anxiety. I've just laid my heart out upon a stone, and he will do with it as he pleases. Eric stepped towards me until he was an arms-length's away. His eyes, suddenly serious, intently gazed at my face and I stood squarely, proud in my confession. This close, the fear sank to be replaced by hope. Hope that he's as gay as Grell depicted him to be-'a flaming homosexual'-and that I am the light of his eyes.

He slowly brought his head towards mine and I expected him to whisper an answer in my ears. Instead, his lips found mine and Eric kissed me softly. This was nothing like the dared kiss at lunch. That was a game, but this was an answer. My chin brushed his goatee as his fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer. Suddenly it was over, and we stood there, panting in the silver moonlight. A slow smile crept up his lips. "That-is a yes."

That was yesterday, and now we are officially dating. I don't know how this is going to change my life, but my excitement can hardly be contained. Holding hands on the way to work? Feeding each other at lunch? Going on dates instead of joining Ronald Knox at the bar after work? Singing a soft lullaby before retreating to our own rooms, or maybe staying in his room at night? I honestly don't know what to expect from a relationship, let alone one with Eric. I'll follow his lead and go as fast as he desires, but I wish I was more informed about couple protocol. I'll have to ask Grell when we get to work today. It is Saturday, but overtime has been called with a large number of souls that needs to be taken care of. I expect the Phantomhive boy has something to do with it; as the Queen's watchdog, Ciel leaves many souls to be collected in his wake.

My heart once again skips with a knock at my door. With a half-hour until work, I expect this visitor must be Eric to escort me to the office. I pull on my suit jacket while opening the door.

"Oh, Grell!" I say. "You're up early today!" I smother a grain of disappointment at his absence.

"Well, I _need_ to show up to work on time at least once this week, and I discovered that Knox decided to switch my glasses with Will's. I need your help to find them; they're probably on Knox's desk, but if we go now before Will finds out, he'll get strangled instead of me," She explains. "Coming, darling?"

I nod and lead her through the halls. All shinigami are extremely nearsighted, so it's a wonder she found my room in her blinded state. "And how'd it go with Eric?" She asks. "Don't tell me you chickened out."

"I told him last night," I say, smiling. "And he said yes!"

"So you have a boyfriend now! I'm so jealous, but I'm happy for you, Alan. Did you kiss him yet?"

I nod, then realize the gesture escapes her vision. "That was my first real kiss," I say as a warm feeling creeps up my chest.

"I've never kissed a boy before," Grell comments. "That must be fun."

"I hope things go as well with you and Sebastian," I add as we near the empty office.

"Oh, don't mention that! The attention is on you today and you deserve to bask in it. Congratulations! I'll have to remind Eric to be nice to you, but I'm sure you two will be happy." I didn't expect her to so easily brush off mention of her love, but it shows that Grell knows how to be truly supportive to her friends.

Sure enough, Grell's glasses are resting atop Ronald's computer. After putting them on and setting the blame of Will's missing glasses on her younger coworker then punching in her timecard, she appraises me with a satisfied glance. "You look happy today. Your cheeks are flushed and you're smiling. I'm glad because you usually look too serious."

I nod and gratefully conclude that this was the right decision to make and the right time to make it at. I have an important job and a wonderful boyfriend along with an understanding friend; yes, I am happy.

Ronald Knox enters the room and runs up to Grell. "Where did you put his glasses?" He demands. "William-senpai is _mad_."

Grell tilts her head and locks of ropy red hair uncover her neck. "If you play with fire, you get burned," She says in a singsong voice.

"They're on your desk," I interject before their normal fighting can climax.

"Thanks, Alan-senpai!" Ronald yells cheerfully as he scoops up his bosses' black glasses and dashes from the room. Even this early in the morning, our job is never boring. Now, where's Eric?

My boyfriend arrives to clock in time a minute before work starts, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead. Before I can ask what he's been up to, Will strides into the room followed by a sheepish Ronald. Will flings Grell's scythe at her (although she had been consigned to scissor duty yesterday for various infractions of shinigami rules), which she deftly catches with one finger. "You'll need that today," He mutters. "Many human children are burning to death in a fire which that demon caused, so hurry up before he snatches their souls!" Grell's fire comment of earlier comes to mind.

"My Sebas-chan will be there?" A bloodthirsty grin spreads across Grell's face.

Why would Sebastian set humans aflame? Unlike most demons, he doesn't wreak havoc and delight in pain. Instead, he is chained to his master's will, but that young child's hands are stained with blood in the name of the Queen. If it is convenient to roast children alive, Ciel would order his demon to do so without any qualms. I don't understand how a human can be so callous. Honestly, I would kill that demon if given a chance, if only to stop Ciel. Grell shouldn't settle for someone so beneath her (although Madam Red was also a murderer…)

Fire is such a tame word compared to the conflagration that blazes before us. When humans describe hell, it must look something like this. Even shinigami flinch from the heat, but thankfully our scythes have a long reach. I can't imagine the troubles we had to go through millennia ago when our teeth sharpened with strong emotions were our scythes. The once-majestic building now crackles and crumbles as flames lick the sides, painting everything Grell's favorite color.

They set to work quickly and I see cinematic records flying through the air. Even if I wanted to talk to Eric now, it would be much too loud. I quickly focus on my own work and pierce a soul, reading its story. This girl never had a name. Her earliest memory was a leering face selecting her, one she took an immediate distrust to. She learned later that he was the Doctor, and her Master valued his opinion very much. Her Master made them dress as dolls and perform for him. If one didn't perform well enough, the Doctor took them. Anyone who went to the Doctor never came back-alive. But even performing was dangerous; placing one's head inside a voracious tiger , tightrope-walking without harnesses, knife-throwing with shaking hands at another child…

Sometimes visitors came, like the orange-haired son of her Master. This son seemed nice, but he never helped them. He flinched when children died around him but didn't oppose the Master. The children couldn't form bonds or fight back as they were deprived of food and water. One day the Master wanted decorations, so she and others were lashed tight with ropes and suspended from the ceiling. This was supposed to be better than the fate of one given to the Doctor, but the pain and exhaustion and hunger and thirst and hopelessness made her wish that every time she closed her eyes, they would never be opened again.

A little boy came with a butler clad in black at his side. She thought he would save the children after killing the Master. Instead, his butler's eyes flashed red and a fire started inside the building. She screamed and whimpered and yelled until her voice was hoarse as flames crawled down the ropes, but the child didn't look back. He didn't shed a tear. He was as evil as the Master and Doctor. And the flames consumed her, an excruciating death to end an excruciating life.

How am I supposed to say 'judgment complete: no further comments' and move on? How can I resign this girl, an angel whose wings have been severed, to a harrowing and untimely death? But she never leaned how to live, so she would surely die again if left to her own devices. The 'Doctor' and 'Master' have drained away her potential like blood dripping down the rope where her circulation was cut off. What darkness the 'Master' and 'Doctor' have succumbed to; what evil sins they've committed; what warped minds they have to treat living human children like objects! And the suffering those children endured is incomprehensible!

This boy had never met his father. His mother was always hungry so he stole food for her. With his lame leg, he was soon caught. That was the last time he'd seen his mother's face, and now the only face he could see was the men his captor sold him to, a fat man whose face was wrapped in bandages and an insane Doctor. He was crammed inside a cage with other children that soon became slippery with sweat and urine. His eyes glassed over as other children were dragged from the cage and cut open by the Doctor. He couldn't stop their bones from being used as prosthetic arms and legs. When it was his turn to be torn apart on that cold marble slab, he couldn't stop screaming as his own blood gushed from his chest. Icy pain brought him into unconsciousness, and he died soon after.

Shocked, my scythe falls from my fingers. The clatter it makes is unheard by the other shinigami. Will and Eric go about their business without emotion reflecting in their glasses, but everyone else seems to be enjoying themselves. How can Grell be smiling now? Is she laughing at their pain or wishing she was the one to damage the children? Can she not feel or understand human suffering after a century?

The two brief lives like candles replay before my mind. The boy and girl's gruesome cinematic records are like a penny horror novel. Something like this cannot possibly be real. My heart and soul feel heavy as I try to comprehend the malevolence required to destroy two innocent lives in such a thorough manner. Nausea rises in my throat as I recall the children being hacked apart. Silvery tears drip from my eyes and I can't stem the flood of tears. Their agony literally brings me to my knees, but the pain of digging my fingers into scorching gravel doesn't wake me up from the nightmare.

Suddenly my heart throbs and a lightning bolt of pain spreads throughout my body. My arms ache where the ropes entwine her thin arms and I scream as fire eats my skin. I gasp for breath around a knife twisted in his chest and slump to the ground as blood-loss brings me to unconsciousness-and his death.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I wake up to have red encompass my vision. No, it isn't blood or fire. Grell's thick hair is draped over my face and I push it away gently, careful not to wake her up. I am lying in my bed still in work clothes. Grell is sitting on a chair next to my bed but must have fallen asleep while watching over me. She and I are the only ones in the room.

After I collapsed, one of the shinigami must have brought me home. I wonder where Eric is…today should be Sunday, so he would have no reason not to be here. It isn't needy of me to expect my boyfriend's presence; I collapsed inexplicably and was overwhelmed by the pain of those souls. How can a dead human injure me?

When I sit up, attempting to reach for my glasses, my heart convulses. Suddenly robbed of breath, I can't manage to scream when the knife wound shrieks in agony. I clench at my chest but the skin there is unscathed. How can I feel an invisible pain? When I lean on the backboard, wood splinters lacerate my skinned back. The pain jerks tears out of my eyes and a yell from my mouth. If I stop moving, this will go away. But I wasn't really burned from the flames, so _what_ is going on?

Grell is jerked to alertness by my agonized noises. "Alan! Oh, I'm so glad you're awake," She says in a shaky voice. "Now stop moving. It'll just make your pain worse." She slides my glasses onto my nose and I see she is playing the part of my nurse in a skimpy pink lace uniform. I don't comment; she doesn't have enough opportunities to wear girl clothes. Her bare legs gleam in the afternoon light as she grabs a glass from the counter top. "Drink," She commands, raising the glass to my lips.

I am too weakened-and afraid of inciting another round of pain-to grab the cup myself, so I gratefully let the revitalizing liquid slide down my throat. The coldness and freshness allows my breathing to resume a normal rate.

"Is anything hurting right now? Do I need to move you?" She asks.

My pain has subsided with the lack of movement. "I'm fine," I answer. "But…what's going on? What day is it and why aren't I at work? Where's Eric? What _happened_ after the fire? And how can I feel their pain-the souls'?"

"That's a lot of questions," Grell says, sitting in the chair and crossing her legs. She taps two red-coated fingers together as if some nervous tic. "Alan…I'm not going to lie to you. You have caught the only disease that can affect a shinigami-the Thorns of Death."

I'm so shocked no sound comes out. Shinigami can get a disease? I've never heard of this 'Thorns of Death'!

"No one saw you collapse when we were reaping. We were all…preoccupied, you know. You might have been that way for an hour before we noticed. Will thought Sebas-chan might have killed you and slipped away, but I knew the demon would go after me first. You were breathing, unconscious. Eric kind of flipped out. He thought this job was too dangerous for you and fought Will, but Will is actually really strong, so he pretty much beat the crap out of Eric. Sorry I didn't stop them, but it was interesting to watch.

"We had no idea what happened to you but thought it could affect one of us any second, so Knox ran to a bar to drown out his fear. Eric was bleeding on the streets of London and you were unresponsive. Will was super pissed as first, this was overtime; second, his subordinates were 'useless'; and third, Eric got blood smeared on his tie. I offered to help Eric get home so Will carried you. I was scared because Eric started sobbing while I was dragging him back to our office. Did I mention that he's super heavy? My muscles are still sore.

"Anyway, I realize now that Eric really cares about you, since he refused to work on Monday. Eric was in danger of a demotion for attacking his boss and ignoring his responsibilities, but he stayed by your side the whole day," Grell explains.

"Monday?" I interrupt. "Today is-today is Sunday!"

She shakes her head, hair undulating like a river of blood. "No, it's Tuesday afternoon. You were in a coma for-I guess that makes it, about three days. I had to go to work on Monday like usual, but I was really worried about you. Eric was in no position to watch over you as he needed rest himself-his injuries would heal, but they'd take time and calm. Will had assigned me overtime last week, so I started cleaning the library today. A book caught my eye and its title intrigued me-'Thorns of Death.' I had never heard of this, so instead of dusting off the book, I decided to skim it.

"This was actually some fable, but it seemed too close to your condition to discount. It was meant as a warning to shinigami not to get too emotionally connected to humans, because if you did, the souls you reaped could attempt to transfer their pain to you. They can somehow sense your empathy and will remain in a purgatory, trying to weaken your soul and take it over. Unlike demons, we have souls, so this disease could be fatal. The only cure for the Thorns of Death is supposedly killing 1,000 humans not on the Death List without sympathy for them."

Fear creeps around my heart like the souls supposedly fighting me. "So I'm going to die." I state flatly, fighting to keep the emotion out of my voice.

"No!" Grell says, a little too loudly. "It was just a fable, like I said. I can't sense the souls around you so they must have only attacked you when you were reaping. This never happened before, so you must have _really_ felt their pain. And of course we can't just kill people not on the Death List." Grell did before when she was living as Jack the Ripper's butler, yet she wasn't really punished for it. However, she virtually lost her boss's trust and never goes on assignments alone. In places where there are more shinigami, she surely would have been demoted and perhaps even jailed. "Both of us have paid leave for at least a week, so we're going to fight the Thorns of Death by waiting it out. If you aren't around humans, you won't feel sorry for them."

"But this has never happened before, so no one knows what could happen," I surmise. "Why should I still be feeling so weak?"

"You've just had a little shock, that's all. It'll go away. You are _not_ going to die, Alan," Grell says fiercely, teeth elongating with her surge of protective emotions. At times like this, I can see what a good mother she'd make.

I sigh and close my eyes. A whole week without my job-I don't know what I'll do for that time. My whole life has been spent training to be an able shinigami, and now that I finally am one, I can't imagine doing anything else. How can we occupy ourselves for a whole week while I'm confined to bedrest?

"Hungry?" She asks suddenly.

"Why, yes. Yes I am." I open one eye to check that the food is vegetarian before she spoonfeeds me oatmeal.

The door opens and Eric walks in. My heart immediately beats faster as I look at him with expectation. "Why, that should be my job," He says, taking the spoon from Grell and continuing the task of feeding me. She gets up without a word as he refrained from commenting on her getup.

As Eric barrages Grell with questions about my health in between scoops of oatmeal, I take the opportunity to study him. He has a significantly haggard look on his face with his worry and lack of sleep yesterday. I wonder how hard it was for Grell to convince Eric to let her watch over me instead. It seems harsh that Eric has to work today instead of resting, but I guess with this situation they are too many shinigami short. Eric's face is bruised but the cuts have already faded. His movements don't indicate any pain, but he could just be hiding it.

"Hi," I say shyly when he sets down the cup.

Eric gives me a crescent-shaped smile. "I hope you aren't trying to make my jealous by having Grell dressed like _that_ around you." There's the outfit comment.

"Don't worry, I'm not attracted to girls," I protest before Grell's temper can flare. The peace between them was nice and I hope Eric wasn't purposefully trying to instigate a fight.

Eric opens his mouth but bites back whatever comment came to mind. He clears his throat and changes the subject. Grell paws through my closet to give our conversation the illusion of privacy. "Alan, you had to go and get sick on me when I was going to plan all sorts of romantic dates!" He teases.

My heart pounds in my chest with expectation. "Well…you could always drag me since I can't really walk right now." A sudden boldness awakens within me with my flirtatious comment.

"Or I could just clamber into your bed," He responds, playfully lifting my covers. So this is the game we play. I say something suggestive and he takes it to the limits; Eric is naughty like that. I've never had a sensation like this before, but this game…it's _fun_.

Eric lifts my fingers delicately and places a single kiss on my knuckles. I wish he took off his shaded glasses so I could read the expression in his eyes. "I'm so glad that you are better, Alan, and your health will keep improving. Take it easy and don't let your heart beat too fast when I'm here-that much excitement could endanger your condition. I have to go back to work now but I promise I'll be back as soon as I can. See you soon, love." He opens the door, gives a cursory nod to Grell (at least he acknowledged her this time), and is gone.

"He just called you _love_," Grell squeals, bunching my tie tightly between her slender fingers. "That is so _cute_! Kya~!" She gives a drawn-out sigh, chartreuse eyes sparkling, while stretching out my tie. Instead of tearing faintly, the weak fabric rips in half. "Oh. Sorry about your tie," She says, looking at the decapitated clothing.

I chuckle and reach for the tie. "Here. I'll sew it. The needle and thread are on my desk, if you'll get them for me." Though, is it too soon for him to be throwing around words like 'love'? I told Eric how I feel about him, but I didn't expect him to return the sentiment exactly. But maybe we've both been hiding our true feelings for a while and now they can flare fully as we're dating.

"Alan! Your arm," Grell gasps. I look at it but don't sense anything wrong. "You're moving it and-it doesn't hurt anymore?"

I'm reminded of this morning-or, I guess, afternoon-when any movement induced a stabbing, throbbing pain. Now I just feel a weakness and my body is heavy and limp. That's an improvement, which is a good sign for my recovery. "I still feel weak," I admit.

She smiles gently while grabbing the necessary materials for sewing. "Rest makes recovery, like I said." After handing me the tie and the means to fix it, she again relaxes in a chair.

My needle slowly restores the tie and the silence calms my nerves. Ironically, a womanly task like sewing is one she is incapable of. I plan to teach Grell sometime, but she has a short attention span when it comes to 'passionless' tasks of daily life.

I'm reminded of her shark-like expression while we were reaping and decide to ask her about the emotions she felt then. Friends can, of course, discuss things and even be in disagreement, but they also sort out difficulties instead of shying away from them. I need to know how my coworkers feel about humans. "Grell…while we were reaping, it looked like you were enjoying yourself. But I just don't get that. How can you be happy in the midst of all their suffering?"

"Nn? The humans?" She asks. When I nod, she shifts in the seat. "I'm not sure that we should be talking about this now…I don't want to upset you." At my glare, she shrugs and a serious look crosses her face.

"Well, there was a human who I thought could benefit the world at my first reaping, but William let him die anyway. I don't remember his name anymore, and I don't really think about him or regret his death. But there is one human, one I can never forget…" She stands and walks to the curtain, contemplatively gazing at the darkening afternoon sky.

"I've always loved red, you know, the color of passion and blood. And one afternoon while we were reaping, I saw her, cloaked in red. Madam Red, aptly named, cut a gorgeous figure in those fashionable clothes, and her hair was matted with sticky scarlet blood. Excitement and adrenaline are what I live for, and she was hacking away at a whore, eyes flaming, painting the woman the most beautiful color. I didn't think humans had such passion, and I comforted the Madam. She opened up to me and explained her motivation, and I felt a connection as we both are infertile, bereft of children by nature but still yearning for a darling child of our own, and a wonderful husband too.

"So, as you remember, I didn't show up to work for a while. The Madam was more important than my day job. I truly enjoy my job; watching cinematic records is so _dramatic_ and exciting, and I get to pretty women and men with their glistening blood. Blood is the great equalizer; everyone bleeds red. When I hacked Sebas-chan's arm, red droplets stained his shirt. I'm sure if I cut apart even an angel red blood would gush forth. Anyway, I decided to masquerade as Madam Red's butler; no one would find me if I disguised myself as male. That was very uncomfortable, especially since I couldn't wear make-up, but I was blindly devoted to that lady.

"She gave me hope that I wasn't looking for, showing that even humans can be passionate. And I fell more in love with her each day I spent with the Madam. It was shocking to me-I never expected love for a woman to bloom in my heart, but I cherished and nurtured that love. She and I must be soulmates. There's no other word to describe the _trueness_ of what we had. The Madam is fashionable and societal and I was a great help to her, carrying out murders in her stead. But it couldn't be perfect; she was still devoted to her nephew, Ciel. That little _brat_ who stole Sebas-chan also had his finger around _my_ love!

"Ciel as the Queen's dog would be sure to punish her as Jack the Ripper despite their relation. I, as her accomplice, was condemned to death at Sebas-chan's hands. So I told Madam Red to kill Ciel. But…she hesitated. I saw that she cared more about that human than _me_. I had broken so many rules for her and even worn those ugly clothes. I questioned whether she truly loved me and felt so betrayed, and I thought I was stupid to trust a human. My passion reared itself and I committed a grave mistake: I killed her." Grell impatiently dashes away tears forming in her eyes with a pink handkerchief.

"Forgive me, Madam. I wear your jacket every day. I will never forget you, my love. It was so stupid that I killed you, but nothing can bring you back," She whispers to herself, wringing her hands. Suddenly I have to avert my gaze as those raw emotions seem so private. I wonder if Eric would feel the same way if he killed _me_. No!-where did that thought come from? I am not going to die, and my love would certainly never kill me.

Grell strides over to me. "And so you see, Alan-humans all die while bleeding red blood. Even if I didn't kill Red, she would have died anyway, confined by her own human limitations. It's silly to have faith in them, silly to feel their pain. Don't we have enough of our own?" Her voice is world-weary and heavy with deep grief.

Anger rankles itself in me. "And because they die, they're all the more pitiful! Humans bloom like cherry blossoms but fade away. Nevertheless, ignoring their suffering is wrong!"

"No, Alan." She says harshly. "How does it help humans if you take on their suffering and die? Demons eat souls and those humans will never move on, so there must be enough shinigami to protect them. You need to stop worrying about humans, so stop thinking about them! This much pity-it's unhealthy."

I sit up, tie forgotten. "How can you believe that? Didn't you watch the cinematic records at the fire? There were children murdered in front of others, children dressed as dolls and hung from the ceiling, children set aflame…" My voice cracks and tears spill from my eyes. I clutch my chest to futilely stop the flow of painful sadness. But the pain I feel from my chest isn't psychological-once again I feel a knife opening my chest, like the human boy I reaped! The darkness comes too quickly for me to acknowledge the pity and worry in her eyes, and my consciousness fades away like overflowing blood.

_ "Alan, you killed me," an angel whispers accusingly. She unwinds feathers and reveals a battered frame of a body. Her wings are crooked and bent and smeared with red. The body beneath is gruesome, broken, hacked apart. I shake with fear and pity. She smiles at me as those tiny fingers grip my scythe and shove my weapon into her mouth. "Watch me die again," The angel orders, voice deceptively sweet. "Your pain is _nothing _compared to _ours_. Every single human whose soul you've stolen has cursed you with Thorns of Death. Alan, you killed me…" With a sharp motion, her head tumbles onto the floor, and I cannot stop screaming._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Author's Note- Warning: Smut Ahead! XD

"_You_ are the one who needs to teach your boyfriend that feeling pity for _humans_ is idiotic!" Grell says quickly, upset. "Alan _asked_ me about them…he's _way_ too sensitive!"

"Don't talk about him in such a familiar manner," Eric replies sharply, anger in his voice. "Wouldn't dream of it, Eric-_sama_," Grell returns mockingly.

I open my eyes just in time to see Eric punch Grell in the face. "You aimed for a lady's _face_!" She gasps indignantly, hand covering the bruise. Anger flashes in Grell's eyes and her teeth sharpen in accord with her bloodlust.

He shrugs and turns away. "You wouldn't shut up. Now, I'll have to convince William to let me watch him instead-you are not fit for such a task…" Grell jabs her high heel in between his legs as he drops his defenses, underestimating her. Eric groans in pain.

"Stop," I gasp once I manage to find my voice.

They ignore me, however, not content to let a challenge go unanswered. Eric grabs Grell and throws her. For a shinigami that strong, launching another across a room isn't really a feat. Grell screams as she crashes into my desk, papers tumbling onto the floor. "Stop!" I demand, shocked at their open display of violence for such a petty argument.

She quickly regains her footing and lunges towards my boyfriend, brandishing her safety scissors. Eric can only block with his palm-their real scythes are in the office-so Grell stabs him. "Stop!" I yell before they can kill each other. "Stop fighting! NOW!" I start coughing and they finally look over to me.

Grell quickly strides over to my bed, wiping Eric's blood onto her pink nurse's outfit. "I'm sorry that I upset you, really," She starts to apologize.

"I know. It isn't your fault, Grell. But Eric-I can't believe you attacked a woman! She didn't do anything to you! Grell doesn't have to use honorifics with me as we're friends. I would have thought such behavior was below you, honestly," I reprimand.

Eric says nothing, expression still hidden beneath those shaded sunglasses. "I was worried about you," He explains finally, but blood vessels still throb on his forehead. "My temper got out of hand."

"Yes, well, work on that! I think you need to go somewhere else until you cool down."

"You're kicking me out?" He asks with shock.

"Either that or apologize to Grell," I say. "This is my room. I don't care that we're dating or that I'm on a sickbed-I do not tolerate senseless violence or insults!"

Eric stares at me and I feel kind of bad for yelling at him, but I know I'm in the right. I don't know why everyone at work thinks it's acceptable to pick on Grell just because she's transgender and flamboyant and obsesses about love. Eric needs to know he can't get away with that. The silence in the room is tense until he finally sighs. "Sutcliffe…I shouldn't have attacked you. I'm sorry."

She nods tightly, eyes slitted.

"So, I'll go get your supper," Eric continues.

"Wait." Grell reaches into her corset and pulls out a band-aid. "Here." The proffered item is pink and sparkly, an epitome of girlishness.

After staring at the object as if it is foreign, Eric says, "Thank you for the thought. However, I will be fine." He gives me a small smile and turns to leave and pick up our dinner.

"Make sure it's vegetarian!" I call.

"And get something for me too! Chocolates! _Expensive_ chocolates!" Grell adds.

Eric gives a thumbs-up before leaving my room.

"Did they have to be expensive?" I ask.

"I don't eat low-quality chocolate," Grell answers. "How do you think I keep my body this slim?" High metabolism? I didn't know she paid that much attention to her diet.

The door opens once again and I'm surprised to see the blonde-haired shinigami enter. Ronald calls, "Hey, you're awake, Alan-senpai! I figured it was safe to come in now that people stopped screaming, but-woah, Grell-senpai! _What_ are you _wearing_?"

She stiffens. "I have safety scissors and I am _not_ afraid to use them."

"Okay, looks like I have to go! If you need booze to aid your recovery, you know who to call!"

"Thank you for visiting me, but I don't think alcohol is really the necessary remedy…" I say, amused.

"Your loss," Ronald shrugs. He flashes us the peace sign before leaving.

Grell mutters something about temperamental males before turning back to me with a smile. "After all those _interruptions_, now-"

Will strides into the room before she can finish a single sentence. "Sutcliffe, you'll have to report back to work tomorrow, as much as I liked the break."

"I-wait, _what_? Alan hasn't recovered yet!"

"Oh, for _decency_, did you have to gander around in such a getup?" Will complains, eyes widening at Grell's nurse outfit. In Victorian England, it is very risqué for girls to expose their legs, but it's rude to criticize a woman's clothing. She opens her mouth to protest but our boss talks over Grell. "Humphries doesn't need to be watched by a shinigami in the Dispatch. A secretary will do just fine."

Grell harrumphs. "Those secretaries are too scatterbrained! And I don't want rumors to spread about his condition to everyone in London. I am doing a fine job of watching Alan myself, thank you very much."

William glances at his watch as she speaks. "Alan has this week off of work. I'm sure that'll be enough for him to recover. If not, we can extend the time. However, I expect you to show up to work tomorrow at 9 o'clock _sharp_ even if I have to drag you there by your hair, which would be a complete waste of time for me. Understand, Sutcliffe?"

Grell glares at the shinigami. "Honestly! Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean you can just boss me around…"

"I'm your boss."  
"Yes, well, the details aren't important," Grell comments. She twirls the aforementioned safety scissors around her fingers absentmindedly while thinking of a way to thwart William's order.

Before this can turn into another screaming and fighting match, I speak up. "Grell, I'd rather have you watching me, but William-san is our boss. And reaping is important, so I'd hate it if some souls weren't reaped just because I'm sick. Please just go to work tomorrow. I'll be fine."

The look she gives me is skeptical that another can take care of me as well as she, but Grell reluctantly gives in. I guess even Grell can get tired of fighting. "Understood, sir." When Will leaves, though, she sticks out her tongue.

Finally Eric returns with our supper. Apparently Grell won't have a chance to tell me what she wanted to tonight. "_Expensive_ chocolates and ramen noodles that are definitely vegetarian," He announces the menu.

I'm glad that Eric's temperament is noticeably different then earlier. I know he's aggressive and easily provoked, but I've never seen that happen. Of course I remember the time when he injured Grell and Ronald so badly that they couldn't show up to work for a few days, just because she dared Ron to spank Eric with my death scythe…but I didn't expect him to get so defensive over me. If someone was insulting him, surely I would be annoyed, but I would not attack the person. But if Eric was sick…I cannot dwell on that possibility as it is just too frightful. I'm glad that I'm the only weak shinigami, and luckily I have a strong boyfriend to take care of me.

Now Eric has a smile on his face, and I can tell that it is not faked. Or if it is, he's trying really hard to be positive-for me. That alone warms my heart. "It is a fault of mine that I take action before thinking. Grell, I had no right to attack you. I really am sorry. And Alan, I disappointed you. I hope you can forgive me."

"Of course," I say quickly. I didn't expect him to bring up this topic again.

"Don't worry about it. You just owe me one," Grell says, smirking, back to her usual confident self.

Misgivings I had about my boyfriend based on his earlier actions disappear. He knows when he's in the wrong, and he's not afraid to admit it. Eric is apparently fiercely protective of me, which would be wonderful in a battle situation, but he has to learn that the shinigami building isn't exactly a place fraught with danger.

The food is distributed and Grell delicately eats her chocolates while dangling her legs off my desk. Although I can move my arms now without pain, Eric again decides to feed me. "Wait-I know you skipped lunch today. You have to eat supper with me," I demand.

"Perceptive," He breathes, a compliment. "Don't worry, we'll eat together." A mischievous grin crosses his face and I wonder how eating can be so naughty. Eric sits beside me on my bed and I flush from the proximity. He winds some noodles around a spoon and gently places it between my lips, bowl kept warm in his lap. I swallow the noodles and he pauses to admire me. I assume so, anyway, if that's not too arrogant; after all, I'm doing the same to him, memorizing the beautiful lines of his face.

With the next chunk of noodles, Eric picks some long strands and, after putting them in my mouth, he puts the other end in his. _Oh_~. Even a naïve man such as I can understand what this'll lead to.

Lips wet, we kiss again. My boyfriend holds me close and I gratefully press against him. This warmth is so comforting. This is safe, beautiful, and electrifying. I hope every single kiss we share will be this new.

Our movements jostle the bowl and our dinner spills across our laps. "_Eric_," I playfully reprimand. "You couldn't let me finish a single meal…"  
"My hunger for you is much stronger," He says, again pressing his lips to mine. Grell squeals and my ears redden, suddenly self-conscious. Eric doesn't let me move away, instead pulling me closer and deepening the kiss. On the verge of a swoon, I have to break away and gasp for breath.

That-was-amazing.

"Thank you," Eric says softly. "Alan, you are beautiful. You're so pure and perfect that it seems a dream you love me, and I surely relinquish my heart to you. I would do anything-"

"No. Not _anything_. You wouldn't…kill for me, say." I hate to interrupt that wonderful speech, but I'm haunted by the supposed cure to Thorns of Death.

Eric ponders my statement, then answers seriously, "If I had to, I would." Grell had better hide that book. There's no way I'd accept that fairy-tale cure, the death of a thousand humans for my life. It's touching but not reassuring that Eric would commit any sin to share my pain.

I suddenly realize that I'm in the same clothes I wore while unconscious. "I should change clothes and freshen up in the bathroom," I muse aloud.

"I'll help you change," Eric offers with a dirty smile.

"Kya~!" Grell gasps. "I'd better leave, then. Not that I don't want to watch-er, not that I _do_ want to watch…Goodnight!" She jumps off my desk and runs to her room.

Alone in my room with Eric, _anything_ could happen. "I can manage," I say. I'm not really comfortable being naked in front of him yet.

"Go ahead, then."

Is he going to stay in here and watch me change? I don't think…"Can you please wait outside?" I say, flustered.

"Are you sure you're not too weak?" Eric asks, suddenly concerned.

I push aside my blankets and step out of bed. Immediately a dizziness comes over me and my legs buckle. Eric is immediately at my side, wrapping an arm around my back. He lifts me back to a standing position and I wait until the room stops spinning. "I think-I think if I move slowly, I'll be fine."

My boyfriend leads me over to my dresser. Gripping it, I'm able to stand alone, although I'm afraid without support I'll fall again. Eric watches with concern as my nervous fingers pull open my drawers and I select hand-knit pajamas. "If you need help putting those on," He says with raised eyebrows, "don't hesitate to ask. I'll be outside." I wave then turn to my task as I hear the door closing behind him.

I sigh with relief now that the awkwardness is over…this day was interesting and fun at times, but I need to be alone right now. I sit on my bed and untie my shoes. My room is of course very neatly organized, but I'm too weary to put everything in its place now. I kick off the shoes then slowly pull off my black socks. Undoing my fly, I strip my black slacks. I change my boxers then continue undressing. The tie comes off, then the suit jacket. Finally I unbutton the sleeves of my white undershirt and pull that over my head. Naked, I rest and regain my breath. That was the first time the simple act of changing my clothes was difficult for me. And now I have to put the pajamas on…

"Alan, you have a wonderful body," Eric says. I sit up and am shocked to see him standing above me. I'm sure I heard him leave the room-! "I was hiding in your closet. I've been here the whole time," He continues with a grin at my shocked expression.

The implications of this situation cause deep embarrassment. I am sitting here _naked_! Quickly, I cover myself with a blanket. "What are you doing?" I ask warily as he reaches for me.

"Oh, Alan, don't be so _modest_. There's no reason to be ashamed of yourself. You take care of yourself and someone needs to appreciate the sculptured masterpiece of your flesh."

"I'm not-" Eric's fast fingers pull off my blanket. "Please don't! I'm not ready-"

"I know. I wouldn't go that far, but I want to teach you to be proud of your body. I don't want you to be shy like that." I cringe as he caresses my cheek, afraid to be so vulnerable and exposed.

"I'm not comfortable like this," I explain, reaching for another blanket.

Eric ignores my protests and kisses my neck. Warmth spreads through me , but I still can't relax. Sure, this would be fun if only I had _clothes_ on…

I squirm as his warm lips press against my bare flesh. Some part of me is melting, but the other part is yelling 'boundaries!' As both vie for supremacy, I can't truly enjoy my boyfriend's affections. "Please…" I groan as his fingers sensitively stroke the fine hair of my arms.

"Just relax, love," Eric says before lighting up my cold skin with his mouth. The skin behind my ear is particularly sensitive, and I can't help but let a moan escape. My heart sinks at his grin, showing he has no intention to stop.

"Stop…just let me put clothes on…" I feebly protest, but he silences my words with a kiss. This time, I feel his skilled tongue enter my lips. I gasp and close my eyes, but the temporary peace is shattered when the door opens.

"I just came for my chocolates-" Grell announces. Her eyes widen at my state of undress and Eric's body sprawled over mine on the bed. Eric sits up and glares at the interruption, but I blush furiously. Grell's face takes on a scarlet color, and without another word, she collapses in a dead faint.

"Are you serious?" Eric mutters, but nonetheless, he stands up and checks on Grell. It seems she is honestly unconscious. "I'll have to bring him to his room," My love sighs.

"Bring _her_ to _her_ room," I correct in Grell's place.

"Whatever. Well, I'll be back in a few minutes. Sorry!" He grabs her chocolates and slings Grell's prone body over one shoulder before leaving the room. In record time, I put on my pajamas, still reeling from that…incident. I loved how that felt, but I simmer at the fact that Eric didn't stop when I told him to.

I pull up my sheets and close my eyes just before he reenters my room. "Goodnight, Eric," I say with a tinge of annoyance dampening the hearty greeting.

"Don't you want a kiss goodnight?" He asks playfully.

I open one eye to appraise his face, but he seems pleased with himself. Annoyed, I turn away, covered by blankets-and clothes this time. "I asked you to stop. I told you I felt uncomfortable. And you _ignored_ me."

Caught by surprise, Eric remains silent. Finally he says, "I didn't expect you to get upset over that…but you're right. I have never been in a monogamous relationship before, and I need to respect your boundaries. Next time you say stop, I promise I will. But for now, I'll take this slower. If you aren't ready to kiss, I'll just hold your hand. I hope you can forgive my forwardness. Goodnight, then, Alan."

He leaves the room for real this time and I'm left in silence, cloaked by darkness. The soft glow of the moonlight calms me and I believe in my strength to get through the Thorns of Death. I have strong and wonderful friends to stand by my side, and I'm in control of my life. But…I still can't forgive myself. I cannot be anything but a shinigami now, yet I still regret the loss of those beautiful souls. I have to figure out how to comprehend their suffering and yet still do my job. Such a task seems impossible on my own.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The rest of the week is nondescript; I'm watched over by a secretary and am otherwise left alone. Instead of sinking into my thoughts, I begin sewing a dress for Grell (but it isn't red; I used up all the red thread for her last birthday dress.) That takes away the monotony of days in bed, besides visits from my coworkers and presents from my boyfriend. I have no relapses of feeling the souls' pain but am not thoroughly convinced the disease has passed.

On Thursday evening, Eric obtains the secretary's permission to take me on a date. She thinks the fresh air will be good for me. We head for the woods behind the shinigami building, Eric supporting my limping walk. He drapes his suit jacket over my shoulders to combat the draft and starts a small fire. Spreading out a checkered picnic blanket, he sets out his basket. Our supper consists of simple peanut butter sandwiches and warm cider.

The flames crackle and cast a comforting warmth upon us. The light casts brilliance on our faces but leaves the trees in shadow. I'm content to sit here in silence, leaning against his arm and slowly chewing on my sandwich. The sound of our breathing in sync is calming.

"This is a wonderful meal," I compliment.

"Thank you. I wasn't sure if it'd be enough, though."

"It's fine. I eat like a rabbit." His smile sends a flush of pride through me.

I wipe my hands on a napkin then look at him. "So, Eric…"

"Hmm?"

"How was work? The souls you reaped…did any stand out?"

Eric places another chunk of wood in our makeshift fire. "Alan, you don't need to worry about that."

"But I want to talk about it. I want to talk about the humans. Please?" I sigh. "Everyone tiptoes around that topic because they think I'm too fragile, but it's important to me."

Eric lowers his glasses to get a better look at me. The luster of those green eyes is a beautiful sight that any artist would use as their masterpiece, but even the best paints would be dull in comparison. Responding to my earnestness, he nods. "We've always had an interesting relationship with them, the humans. I've always felt distant from them, but when you…were unconscious, I really thought about what it must mean to be mortal. What it must mean to face death…"

Eric reaches out and grasps something. Opening his palm, he shows me a firefly. "See, the light flickers on and off. Humans have their moments of brilliance and moments of idiocy, just like us. But…they die in the end." The firefly flies off and disappears. "Life is…beauty. You made me realize just how fragile that is. One day, we could disappear too. Just because we live longer than humans, we could still die. And that's scary. I am honestly afraid of death, and if it took you away…Well, at least we can make the most of our lives now. I will live my life with a superb role model-you-and I'll look at those humans as people instead of names. But, why should we cry for their deaths when we can celebrate the lives they lived?"

Silence descends once again as I ponder the wisdom my boyfriend imparted. "How?" I ask after thinking.

"How? We can celebrate their lives by loving every single soul we reap. And then it won't be a waste. See? They might have passed their lives without happiness, but we can give them a feeling of peace to seal their cinematic records," Eric explains, gazing at me with seriousness.

I return his look with admiration. "You're right," I finally say. "I love those souls, and so their lives had meaning." With those words, I'm able to forgive myself for reaping them although I wished for their continued life. Suddenly, I feel lighter. The heavy weight of their burden has been lifted. I'm cured!-cured of the Thorns of Death!

I hug Eric and smile into his broad chest. "Thank you. I'm sure I'm cured now. I can go back to work tomorrow."

Eric strokes my hair while returning the hug. "I am always at your service, Alan. If there is any God in the sky, he has my eternal gratefulness for restoring you to full health."

"It was you," I counter. "You saved me. You always give me hope." Although my strength has returned, my body still operates on its normal schedule. My tiredness is betrayed with a yawn. "Let's not go back this early," I plead.

Eric unfolds a blanket and spreads it over us as we lay down. "Nature can watch over two shinigami's sleep." I close my eyes and grab onto his arm, seeking comfort from his proximity. "Surely you wouldn't fall asleep now that Nature is putting on a show for us?" It's cute when he philosophizes, musical poetry naturally falling from his lips.

Side by side, we gaze at the stars far above. "Beautiful," I breathe, marveling at their brightness despite their incomprehensible distance.

"Those stars are shining, but they are just afterimages. Many have died long ago," Eric comments.

"Wow," I say, the word not able to convey the sense of awe I feel. "I hope one day, I too can be somebody's light."

"You already are," Eric promises, giving a quick kiss to my ear. "You already are." His hand squeezes mine under the blankets, and I smile, truly happy to be sharing this special moment with someone I care about greatly.

An owl hoots somewhere, but it doesn't disturb the still peacefulness we have created. Somehow, the world seems to be a separate entity. The space Eric and I have together is all I need.

I might as well bring this up now before I forget. "Eric, you should stop being so mean to Grell. I noticed."

Eric seems surprised by the change in topic, but he answers thoughtfully. "Well…I'll be honest, the other shinigami get on my nerves. Will's too strict, Ron's too unmotivated, and Grell's too obsessive. I didn't think I was picking on him specifically…"  
"That's the problem!" I point out. "You keep calling Grell 'him'. Grell is a really close friend to me, but everyone else bullies her. Grell has explained before that she is a woman trapped in a man's body, like the writings of Karl Heinrich Ulrichs. This is real; this isn't her way to get attention, this is just who Grell is as a person. Can you imagine the trauma she goes through on a daily basis, with no way to truly be who she is, and constant harassment from everyone around her?"

Eric sighs. "I don't know…Grell calls himself an 'actress.' I know Grell said something like that before, but I just ignored it, along with his other ramblings about Sebastian and-"

"This is serious, though! This is not an act; Grell is truly female at heart. The only reason she obsesses so much about Sebastian is because she accidentally killed Madam Red. Think about how you would act if you killed your love-if you killed _me_."

Eric gasps. He looks away towards the darkness. "If it means so much to you…I'll start referring to Grell as a female. Okay, from now on I won't make fun of…_her_ for his-um, her clothing and such."

"You're supposed to be doing it for _her_, not for _me_," I grumble, but I suppose the ends justify the means in this case. It's interesting and gratifying that Eric listens to me so closely. "Thank you."

Eric pats my head. "You have a big heart. You care about everyone, and that makes me a proud boyfriend. How can a shinigami be so pure?" I blush at the compliment but feel a goofy smile crinkle my face. "Now, is there anything else you have on mind?" I shake my head no. "Good, because I have a wonderful topic: the future."

"Of us?" I ask hopefully.

"Yes," Eric says, smiling. My eyes are diverted from the stars above and instead stare into the luminous bulbs he fixates on me. "But, some things have to change. Not bad changes, but just necessary ones. We don't live in human society, but we do visit their world like when we go to bars. And from now on, you have to dress as a girl when we do."

"What?" I gasp, sitting up. This was _not_ something I expected.

Eric chuckles at my reaction. "Come on, now, Alan, girls' clothing isn't _that_ bad."  
"It's not that," I protest, flustered. "But _why_?"

"We can't walk around as an open couple otherwise-we'll get arrested for being gay! That's how their world is. And I'm not going to pretend to be just friends with you. You'll be my 'girlfriend' so we can steal kisses in public without people batting an eye." Now I understand; this was actually thought out. "And-I want to see you in a dress," Eric says, voice deepening.

"Hey!" I playfully hit him. He grabs my fingers before I can snatch them away and plants a kiss on each knuckle.

"These fingers are so beautiful and slender. Yes, you'll pass as a girl. _My_ girl."

"I'll make every real girl jealous," I comment.

"But I have eyes only for you."

"And I couldn't take my eyes off you long enough to notice them."

Eric moves closer to me and we kiss, short but sweet.

"Okay," I say, satisfied. "I don't mind pretending to be a girl, as long as you sew me the most gorgeous dresses." Well, I don't want to make Grell jealous, but…

"At the next party we debut at, you'll turn heads, my lady," Eric says, grinning. It shouldn't be surprising that he has my measurements and already has a masterpiece of clothing sewn.

"The future…" I muse. I lie back on the picnic blanket and feel clumpy grass pressing against me through the acrylic. "I want a daughter. Named Erica."

"A daughter?"

"A child, anyway. Unlike Grell, I wouldn't kill for one, but…I'd really like to be a father. I'd really like to raise a life of my own and not snuff out every soul I encounter. I wish we could get married, but since we're both boys it'd be a problem. Unless William decides to officiate. But seriously, I can imagine a beautiful girl, Erica, my own-o_ur_ own. And I know it's not physically possible for us to have a kid, but we could adopt an abandoned human or something."

"I think," Eric states, "that sounds wonderful."

"Really?" I ask, excited. "We can really raise a human as our child?"

"But it's still too early. We've only been dating for a week," He continues. "A year from now or so, we can raise her. And until then?"

I'm not disappointed by the wait as I didn't expect Eric to agree so readily. "I'd like to do everything a normal human couple does," I suggest.

Eric brings his lips close to my ear and I feel the stubble brush against my bare skin. "Even…make love until you collapse, screaming my name?" Delicious shivers shoot up my spine. The game is always there. He is not innocent but dirty and won't be harnessed by my naïveté. This naughtiness is thrilling.

"Not yet," is my only response. Let him make of that what he will. "And I'm tired. We should probably sleep now as we'll have to work tomorrow. By the way, how are you?"

"Me?" Eric asks, surprised.

"William, in Grell's words, 'beat the crap' out of you. I hope you're healed and aren't aggravating your injuries."

"Oh. That's nothing. I'm dandy," Eric smiles and gestures to his healed face. I notice that his hand that Grell stabbed with her safety scissors is free of a scar. "It's cute that you were worrying about me, and I'm very happy as long as I'm by your side."

"Love is its own binding contract," I remark. If demons could make a contract out of love, not hate…

"But does my Alan need to sleep now?"

"Yes, so my Eric better not hog the blankets."

"Here, princess," He says, tucking me in.

"Don't call me that," I protest, blushing. "Just because I'll dress like a girl doesn't mean-"

"Come on, you like it," He interrupts. That nickname made me feel special, but is it really necessary?

Instead of answering, I demand a bedtime song.

"My voice isn't angelic so I don't think you'll want that to carry you into sleep-"

"I _said_, sing me a song. Okay, Eric?" My voice is filled with command and I glare at him expectantly.

Eric smiles warmly. "You know just how to get your way, don't you, darling?" Using his own melody, Eric sings about the night and the radiant star that makes the darkness worship him. His own little star-me. His voice is comforting and I soon settle against his chest, feeling the timbre vibrating. His arms wrap around me and my eyes blink, gently closing. Eric's voice carries me into a peaceful sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The sky is peach-colored as the early morning sunlight filters through soft clouds. My fingers are digging into Eric's shirt and I'm embarrassed to notice drool has wetted the fabric. He is still asleep, a light snore rumbling as his chest rises and falls. Giddiness makes me want to run in circles singing because of the wonderful night we just spent together. What a perfect man, honestly…

My relaxation is interrupted by the realization that today is Friday-a workday. Also a day that Will is coming to check on us. I can't make Eric late, and I've _never_ been late myself! I can keep all my good habits while dating, you'll see.

If my watch is right, we have only a half-hour to get dressed and check into work. That's going to be tight timing. "Eric, wake up," I say, shaking his shoulder. Damn, now's not the time to find out he's a deep sleeper. I look around and notice the picnic basket. Well, desperate times call for desperate measures. I shake myself out of his strong grip and whack him upside the head with the brown and yellow picnic basket.

"Sorry," I say as his eyes blink open.

"What a wonderful sight to awaken to-my boyfriend trying to murder me in my sleep," Eric comments dryly, rubbing his head while sitting up.

I roll my eyes. "It didn't hurt _that _much. And anyway, today's a Friday!"

"So?"

"_So_ we have to hurry up and get to work."

Eric shrugs. "I'd rather skip. We could tour London and it'd be a lot more fun."

"Don't even joke like that! Will's coming, and you can't just skip work," I say sternly.

"Yes, dear." My heart throbs at those cute words, masking my earlier annoyance.

"Well, whatever. If I'm late, I'll…I'll hit you with something a lot worse than a picnic basket!"

"Looking forward to it," Eric teases, but he nevertheless gathers the picnic's remnants and prepares to head back.

This time when we walk to the shinigami building I can walk without support. I still grip Eric's hand firmly. I wonder how people will react to us being a couple. Unlike in human society, I think people will accept us. And honestly, what's to disapprove of? Love is love, and love is beautiful.

"Where were you?" The secretary who was watching me in my sickness demands, confronting me. "I thought you would come back before dark! We were searching for you!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," I apologize. "I thought Eric told you-we slept in the forest." That sounds like we slept _together_, but it's much too early for such a move.

"Well, you need to hurry to your room! I hope this didn't worsen your condition," She frets, glaring at Eric.

"I am completely certain that I am cured of the Thorns of Death. I'm going to work today."

She frowns. "Are you _sure_?"

"Yes. I'm sorry to have caused you trouble, and thank you for having watched over me, but I'm fine now. I have to get to work soon…"

Taking my cue, the secretary leaves, but not after warning me to return to my sickbed the second I notice any problems. Now Eric and I only have twenty minutes, and Will is always early. Despite the rush, I feel a warm glow in my cheeks that has nothing to with temperature and everything to do with his proximity. Yes, this is what being in love feels like.

"Okay," I say. "I am going to go change in my room, and this time you are _not_ coming. Meet me in the office after you get ready."

Eric nods, squeezing my hand before leaving. No parting quip? He had better not attempt to sneak inside my closet again.

I change as fast as I can but also have to freshen up in the bathroom. Ugh, it's 8:55 now! I'm late! Eric, you'll pay for this. Well, it was my fault too, but I don't make empty threats.

I breath a sigh of relief while clocking in as it seems Will isn't here yet. I unhook my death scythe from the wall and sneak up on Eric sitting at his desk. Raising it above my head, I whack him in the back. I'm surprised to feel my weapon hit flesh as I fully expected him to dodge. He must have been preoccupied.

"Domestic violence? Tsk, tsk," Grell comments. "And I thought you were the _uke_."

I flush as Eric gives me a perplexed look. "It's still not 9 o'clock, so I'm not sure what that was for."

Oh, I guess I'm _not _late, so that was completely unnecessary. "Just my way of saying 'good morning,'" I lie. "Always gotta keep you on your toes." I quickly stash away my scythe before Will makes his entrance.

"Whatever makes you happy, Alan," Eric says, amused at my pathetic excuse. I'm sure even my toes are red by now. I sigh at my own stupidity. "Now don't feel _bad_," He says, noticing my dejected expression. "You didn't kill me or anything." Grell pauses, fingers falling to her sides. I'm the only one that noticed, but I can imagine Madam Red filling those large green eyes.

Before I can say anything, William strides in. "Goofing off is not absolutely not tolerated. And-oh, Humphries! Welcome back. I hope you're doing better." I nod, so he continues his rant. "Sutcliffe and Knox, not a single word until break. Slingby, I expect you to be diligent, and of course Humphries will be on task. I have to report to my supervisor today, so any mishaps will result in extreme punishment."

"All the more reason to goof off," Grell mutters.

"_What_ was that, Sutcliffe?" Will barks, smoothly adjusting his glasses. I'm reminded of our schooldays and certain shinigami's impertinent behavior.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Will," Grell says, giving him a perky smile.

Will facepalms. "How I have put up with these people for _so_ many years is beyond me."  
"It's my job to be the drama queen, not yours. We'll work today, so you can go play Tetris-I mean, do your paperwork. 'Kay, darling?" Grell sits at her desk and crosses her legs daintily.

"That is _not_ the way you address your boss!" William roars. She doesn't reply, so our workday begins. I always feel a single morning isn't enough to document the lives of the souls we've reaped and the profound impact they've had on me. At least I'm a fast writer.

An hour passes while I'm completely absorbed in my task at hand, but suddenly Will starts to reprimand Grell. "_What_ are you writing? That surely isn't your report-"

"Oh, this is fanfiction I'm writing about Sebas-chan's daily life," Grell explains happily.

"Never mind what it is, just throw out that garbage!"

Grell pouts, a look I'm sure was perfected in a mirror. "I'm on Chapter 3! No way! Sorry, Will, but you can't stop creativity." She absentmindedly brushes hair off her shoulders, missing the opportunity to give our boss a sultry look.

"This is not the time for your fantasies-"

"I'm writing about Sebas-chan stripping," She says, dipping her pen in ink.

Will suddenly snatches the sheaf of papers off her desk. "I have to confiscate this. As your boss." Everyone knows he is actually going to read it now. Grell sighs but starts to finally complete paperwork.

Our desks are at opposite corners of the room, but I notice when Eric stands up to get coffee. Setting the hot liquid down at his desk, his eyes meet mine in a smile. I blush and return to my work. Suddenly he wheels his swivel chair over to me and kisses me on the lips. Too surprised to respond, all I can manage to do when he breaks away is emit a happy giggle. I drown it out when Will tells Eric to stay at his seat, instead noticing the way those chartreuse eyes smolder for me.

A daydream consumes me for a few minutes as I remember falling asleep and waking up in his arms. And the rare beauty of the song he song, too…the way he kissed me…the way he touched me before…

"Humphries and Slingby, it is not acceptable to make out in the office." Will says, apparently ranting about us.

"So you'll officiate over our marriage?" Eric asks casually.

Will gasps and drops the papers he was holding. From the distance, I can't tell if it's Grell's story or his actual work. "Surely not!" He sputters.

"And why not, pray tell? Don't you think Alan and I are a cute couple?" I can't believe Eric is actually saying this to our boss…!

Will's face goes blank, seemingly wiped of expression in his extreme shock. "I have no interest in my subordinates' love lives!" For some inexplicable reason, his absolute refusal disappoints me. "Now, get back on task!"

"I'll do it," Grell says impulsively.

Eric raises an eyebrow. "What? No. Not _you_."

"Oh, but you owe me a favor, and the time has come to collect it. I'll design your wedding-the room, clothes, everything. Leave it up to Grell and it'll be like a fairy tale!"

"If you're the designer, who'll officiate-" He protests.

"That honor would fall upon me," Ronald interrupts. "I'll also provide the vodka imported from Russia, 'cause I've heard they've got psychedelic spirits over there."

Eric shakes his head. "I'm being serious. This isn't a party, it's a wedding. I can't have you fools mess it up. Alan doesn't want-"

"I'm being serious too," Grell says earnestly. "And why don't you try asking Alan what he wants instead of speaking for him? Alan, will you let me plan your wedding?"

I nod. "That would be wonderful."

"_See_, Eric?" Grell smiles, satisfied. "I'll need time to plan, so it may be a month or so before the date is definite. But believe me, this will be a wedding to outshine all others. Oh, and Alan, do you mind wearing a dress for the occasion?"

Her sentiment echoes my earlier conversation with Eric, but Grell probably wants the clothes to be the center of attention. I shrug in response.

"Yay! And light blue is your color. Ruffles and tulle and lace and bows..." Grell sighs happily. "That dress is going to be fit for a princess."

"But no makeup," Eric cuts in. "And don't get carried away: the color pallet must extend beyond shades of red."

Grell pouts dramatically. "Oh pooh, you're no fun! Don't you realize how attractive men look when they wear makeup? And red is the most gorgeous color, fit for a gorgeous wedding of a wonderful couple. Look, just trust Grell; she knows these things."

"I'll have to check over your plans," Eric continues, not convinced.

"It's meant to be a surprise!" She gasps, hand over heart. "You for sure may not gaze upon your husband's gown until he walks down the aisle."

"Enough of this," Will interrupts decisively. "Talk, or argue, later. Sutcliffe, do not, and I repeat-_do not_ sketch Humphries's dress now. I will delay lunch if you don't finish your reports by then."

This is enough to silence us ragtag shinigami. I was enjoying watching their arguments even though I was the center of attention. I know Grell will live up to her promise to throw the most fantastic wedding, and joy overtakes me when I imagine traipsing down the aisle to the future of a life at Eric's side-but I hope Grell doesn't make me wear heels. As I'm finished with my report, I'm free to let that scenario replay in my head, bringing a smile to my face with every variation.

The last commotion occurs when William punches the sleeping Knox. He falls off his chair and hits the cold linoleum floor before being jerked to awareness. Besides that incident, the room is silent. Finally Will's watch indicates that we are free to go to lunch. As I hand in my report, my fingers brush that of my boyfriend-and future husband-bringing an electric charge through my veins.

Grell stretches as we walk down the hall. "Well, that was a boring morning."

I look at her quizzically, tilting my head to the side. "Boring? I thought you were excited about the wedding."

"Oh, of course! Congratulations, by the way." She directs that last comment to Eric, who nods.

"Thank you for volunteering to plan it." I can hear that is voice is strained. He's still not happy with this decision, but he's going along with it. Oh, Eric, you'll see. This choice will pay off.

"And now we're even," Grell trills in a singsong voice. "But what I meant, Alan, was that there wasn't fighting or blood or deaths-that kind of thing. Life, without excitement, is boring."

"Love-"

"Transcends my base desires. But as she is gone, I'll still smile because the world has a lot to throw at me."

"Sebastian's a girl now, too?" Eric asks, frowning slightly. "You can't feminize the world."

"Oh, I wasn't talking about him. I was talking about-" Grell glances at me as if to telepathically ask if Eric realizes the relationship between she and Madam Red was one built on not just trust, but love. "Anyway," She says, changing the topic. "Do you want to wear a veil or a hair bow? For the wedding."

"It depends on what color they are," I answer after some thought.

"So it's true gay guys have an eye for fashion!" We've finally reached the lunch line so our conversation is abruptly cut off as we select grilled cheese sandwiches and various sides.

"We're really getting married," I murmur somewhat unconsciously as we walk to our table.

Eric, who was carrying my tray along with his, sets them down before answering, "Yes." He smiles while helping me onto the bench. Grell has a dreamy look in her eyes at this display of chivalry. Well, I guess it wouldn't be chivalry as we are both boys-it would be a courtesy born out of love and protectiveness.

"So how far have you guys gone? Third base?" Ronald asks rowdily as we sit across from him.

Instead of verbally lashing him, Eric stands up and punches the shinigami in the face. "Eric!" I gasp. "That was completely unnecessary."

"Don't you _dare _insult Alan's innocence," Eric says darkly, staring into Ronald's dumbfounded, surprised-and a little scared-eyes. "Take that back. Now."

"Um…" Ronald looks down sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Alan-senpai. I was just curious as you're getting married and all."

"I forgive you." I grab my boyfriend's arm and whisper in his ear, "Eric, that's enough! Calm down! I can protect myself, you know, and that didn't bother me. Remember the last time you punched someone?" After he punched Grell, I was ready to kick him out of my room.

"You need to watch your mouth, Knox," Eric demands.

"Yes, senpai."

"Eric…" I sigh. "You need anger management."

Grell sits next to her recovering coworker. "It seems Eric's fists of fury have flown again." She studies Ronald, who is glumly playing with his food. "You broke his glasses. See, there's a crack in the left frame."

I sigh. "Eric, go get those fixed for him. And calm yourself down before you get back."

"Fine," He says while taking the broken glasses, immediately leaving the room to obey my command.

"This time it wasn't Grell who overreacted," I chuckle, tinged with a little sadness. I don't understand why Eric would get so physical over such a little insult to me.

"Well, at least someone got hurt," Grell points out, trying to cheer me up in her own way. "See?-excitement!"

"I can't see," Knox complains.

"And now for the grand finale…" Grell stands up and I see a plan forming with reckless abandon in those sparkling green eyes. "FOOD FIGHT!" She yells, chucking Ronald's tray across the room. It doesn't hit anyone but does make a mess. Silence descends on the room as all shinigami stare at her, not in the mood for Grell's shenanigans. "No? Well then, you all just got PUNK'D!" I can't help but burst out laughing, and soon normal conversations restart.

Will isn't in the lunchroom, presumably occupied with Grell's fanfiction about a stripping Sebastian, so it seems no one can call her out and make her clean up the mess. Instead, ignoring her protests, I cross the lunchroom and gather the mess before throwing it away. I give Ronald my lunch, feeling pity for him, one not usually so dejected. "That actually hurt though," He explains, inhaling my grilled cheese. Food puts everyone in a better humor.

Without turning around, I sense Eric's presence when my heart automatically beats faster. I automatically relax and my heart swells with comfort and peace, but my neck stiffens, recalling his earlier display of masculinity. "I deserved that," He comments, taking his place next to me after solemnly returning Ron's fixed glasses. What? He couldn't have noticed something indiscernible like my neck muscles tightening in disapproval…

"When you hit me earlier today with your scythe-yes, I deserved that." Noting the tone in his voice, I look at Eric with concern and grip his gloved hand. "I know you can protect yourself, but…" He sighs. "I just-I just can't control myself when I'm worried about you. And I know what he-er, she did earlier wasn't that bad. I attacked Grell for no reason, like a wild animal. And Knox wasn't being malicious, but I just freak." Eric shrugs. "Maybe I just don't deserve you."

"Are you _serious_?" Grell chokes out, lunch forgotten. Her expression is one of immense disbelief, lips raised in an uncanny gesture that reminds me of a cat's hackles. "You think caring about someone so much you're willing to cross any boundary just to preserve his smile makes you a bad person? God, Eric, you're such an idiot!" I'm surprised at this sudden vehemence. "Don't be a wimp! Don't try to back out! Marriage is for love, not convenience, you know! If you can murder someone in his name, that's what proves you're true. Yeah, you had no right to hurt either of us, but those are good instincts to have. So don't look down on yourself for that!"

Eric pauses at her words.

"So what if Alan's innocent compared to you? So what if it upsets his sensibilities? He needs you to watch over him. Because who knows? One day, you might have to kill for him. One day you might have to protect him from a demon. And if you've squashed your violent instincts, it'll be too late. We're not human, Eric. We live in a different world, a world where bloodthirsty people are the ones who survive. Berating yourself over love is going to ruin your relationship, and the natural instincts you so abhor are what will preserve it."

"When did you get so wise, Grell?" Eric asks. This remark doesn't seem sarcastic, and I'm glad he at least partially respects her now.

"When I had to," Grell answers. "When she died. It was either that or go insane, overwhelmed by grief. Once you have love, you'll never forget them, even if it's a clamp squeezing your heart, a reminder of her that brings only pain and regret." Her fingers seek out the jacket Grell took from the corpse of the Madam.

Eric's brow furrows while he mulls over her words. "Who do you keep talking about?"

"Can we not be so serious?" Ronald pipes up. "It's hard enough to eat while sober."

"Yeah, food…" Eric says, suddenly noticing my missing tray. "Alan, you have to eat."

And now people notice me again. "I gave him my tray because, well, Grell threw it. I couldn't just let Ronald go hungry."

My boyfriend nods. "Then we'll share my lunch." He cuts his grilled cheese into four even pieces and feeds one to me. I nibble on it and he occasionally dabs crumbs from my lips. Unexpectedly, silent silver tears stream down Grell's face. With a crushed expression, she gets up and runs from the room.

My heart clenches with guilt. "We shouldn't have been talking about her…" I manage between bites.

"_Who_?" Eric asks, annoyed at being clueless.

"Um…" Grell didn't swear me to secrecy or anything, but Madam Red is a touchy subject to her, so I don't want a gossipmonger like Ronald to know the Madam's continued importance in Grell's life.

"Wait…" Ronald puts a finger to his lips and proceeds to think. "Was he talking about…that lady he served? Some Miss Scarlet or something…no, it was Red. Madam Red!"

"That was who Grell worked as a butler for, and together they were Jack the Ripper," Eric remembers. "But why would that make…her cry?"

They both stare at me, and I fidget uncomfortably. "Grell…I should go comfort her."

"You can't go in the girl's bathroom," Ronald points out. "Not that he should either." It makes sense Grell would go there now.

"She," I correct absentmindedly. "And I'll meet you in the office when we grab our scythes, Eric. I have to go talk to her. You stay put."

I barely register the concerned look in his eyes as I leave the lunchroom. The restrooms aren't too far, and I knock on the woman's door. "Hello? Grell? Are you in there?"

As I'm about to leave and check the one closer to our office, a tiny voice calls out, "I'm not coming out. Tell Will I'm too sick to reap. Sorry, Alan."

"Grell, please. You should talk to me."

"I already explained and you didn't understand," She argues stubbornly. "You're _in_ love. You can't comprehend what mourning lost love is like."

"But I want to understand your suffering. I want to help you get through it." I lean against the cold wall, seeing nothing. "That's why I'm so weak, because I care. That's why Eric is terribly defensive of me. Compassion can't be a flaw, though. Those humans, they die such young, horrible deaths…"

"I'm not human," Grell says.

"But Madam Red was. And maybe the reason you're so sad is because-because you don't try to understand humans. You can't love her as an equal if you don't care about her species."

"I'm just one girl. I can't think about the plight of humans. That's too much for me." Her voice sounds terribly young and I wish I wasn't too proper to barge into the bathroom and give Grell a hug.

"Grell, I don't know what you're doing in there, but please don't hurt yourself or anything. Please come out. Hiding just makes it worse. If you need a shoulder to cry on, use mine."

Silence greets me. Finally Grell opens the door and steps out, hugging Madam Red's coat desperately. "Alan…will I ever be whole again?"

"Yes," I say firmly. "You can start over-with Sebastian or-"  
"No! I care not one whit for that man! It's just a diversion. Everything is. Everything…" She sinks to the floor and puts her eyes in her palms, frail shoulders shaking with sobs. Immediately I move to hug her, imparting comfort to a desolate soul. By now we are late, and it takes another ten minutes for her to calm down. I suspect this is the first time she's cried about her love's death-her love's murder.

"Please forget this," Grell says quietly, smiling at me. "Thank you, but what I said- forget about it. I…I'm fine."

"Who are you trying to convince?" I ask sadly, heart filled with pity.

"I care about Sebastian; I just don't know him well enough to call it love. Lust is not love, but it can be," Grell explains. "The Madam is special. I'm broken, but someone can pick up the pieces. I'll be back to normal soon enough, so don't worry about me. Let's go reap!"

Those turbulent emotions surely aren't healthy, especially when she again puts a lid on them. "Are you sure you don't need to talk more?"

"You're not a counselor, dear, and I don't need one," Grell says kindly. "Once I paint the world red, the beauty my love and I envisioned together will be enough of a comfort."

Her attempt to be perky lessens my concern, but I know what I just saw was rare. That was the real Grell, the heartbroken woman she hides behind a mask of flamboyancy. She can only attempt to move on by redirecting her hormones. I hope fate is kind enough to have someone else in Grell's reach worthy of her passionate love.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Author's Note- Warning: Smut Ahead! XD

When we enter the office, Eric is waiting for me. He stands up and hands my scythe to me, eyeing the disheveled red-headed shinigami. "Don't stare at me. My makeup is waterproof," Grell snaps at him before retrieving her chainsaw and Death List then hurrying from the room.

"Is Grell okay?" He asks quietly once the click-clack of high heels has faded into the distance.

"I can only hope," I answer, feeling the burden of her pain cast over my shoulders. "I don't know if there's anything I can do. I wish I knew what would help her…"

"Alan, there are some things people have to deal with on their own," Eric says firmly.

I sigh, eyes cast downward. "What would you do if I died?"

I hear his sharp intake of breath at my unexpected question, and his saw clatters on the floor, belying intense emotions. Eric quickly shakes his head. "I'd never let that happen." There is an almost desperate tinge in his voice.

"But how can I not be so fixated on death? We deliver it, and it'd only be karma."

"Alan, stop. You're cured from that Thorns of Death. I'm not going to let you go reaping if you're in a dangerous mood," He says protectively, wrapping an arm around my thin shoulders.

"Poor Grell," I whisper with frozen lips. "Poor humans."

Eric grabs my chin with a black-gloved hand and tilts it up until I gaze into his blue-tinted eyes. "You cannot save everyone. I need you to understand, Alan; it is their fate to suffer and die. We will care about them, but you have to resign yourself to the fact that their lives are untouchable. Only in death can we interfere by sending them off with a smile."

"I don't know if I'm cut out for this," I say wearily, wanting to put my head in my hands and fall asleep. Then again, I could have a nightmare…

"Then we're not going reaping today."

My sense of urgency is again awakened. "No, we have to get to every soul on the Death List before demons can get to them!"

"I'm sure they'll be fine. Grell looked ready to kill everyone in London before h-she left." Eric plants a kiss on my forehead, restarting my body with its voltage. "We could play. I'm sure that'd cheer you up." He traces my lips with that hungry expression. Tempting, but those souls are important.

"No," I say with resolve, removing those probing fingers. "Later. Now, we have a job to do."

Eric stoops to pick up his scythe. Situated with his fingers surrounding mine, we walk through the empty halls and soon are again in the world humans inhabit. I open the black binder that contains the lists of those who will die. I've always imagined what would happen if we prevented the death, but a demon would probably sniff out that unlucky soul and devour it. I've always wondered what happens to the souls after we reap them. And our souls too…

Eric runs his finger down the list and selects a random human. "10 minutes from now he'll die…that's a block from here. Shall we?" I nod my consent and we stride down the silent street.

The coppery smell of blood alerts me that something is wrong. Eric smells it too and stops walking. "Let me check around the corner-you stay here."

"I can handle blood," I say. "But he's not supposed to die for another five minutes…" I check my watch, which is still ahead of the Death List. The Death List is always right, so someone must have interfered in the natural order of things.

Nevertheless, I wait for Eric to examine the situation. "Come watch this cinematic record," He calls. I hurry to join him, but my stomach clenches at the sight before us. The young man, 18 years of age, was meant to die in an unfortunate accident. A carriage hurtles past us, sending up sprays of dirt and dust. He was meant to be trampled by the horses, I guess, but instead someone brutalized him. I'm reminded of my dream with the angel and look away to prevent throwing up.

Eric is kneeling on the pavement slick with crimson blood, not seeming to mind the mess. His saw is shoved into the human's open belly and the cinematic record is shimmering in the air. "That's Grell, isn't it?" He asks, replaying the segment of this poor man's murder. I do recognize my friend as she hacks him apart with an insane look in her eyes. Before his eyes closed for the last time, he saw Grell's maniac grin and a single tear rolled down his cheek as he recalled the woman he would never have a chance to tell his feelings to. Why did I leave Grell in that condition? "We have to stop him-I mean, her. Grell can't kill whomever she pleases!"  
I shake my head with defeat. "I shouldn't have left her in that state…she said she was going to 'paint the world red.' I guess when Grell gets emotional, she viciously kills humans, not bothering to check the Death List."

"It's not your fault," Eric says quickly. "Grell's the one who needs help. Grell is clearly emotionally unstable."

"That isn't your call to make," I say, a bit offended. "You don't know what she's been going through-"

"Well, that doesn't matter!" He interrupts. I fall silent, surprised at the anger in his voice. "_Everyone_ suffers, Alan. You might not see it, but do you know how broken I felt when I thought I lost you?" My face whitens as I recall Grell's tale of his desperation after I caught Thorns of Death. "But I didn't kill anyone because that's _wrong_. Our job is to reap people who are meant to die. Grell is murdering people, and his emotional state doesn't excuse anything! And we don't have time to waste psychoanalyzing Grell; she's out there, killing humans as we speak!"

"I'm sorry," I say quietly, cowed.

Eric sighs. "Look, we have to hurry and stop Grell. Jack the Ripper is gone and cannot come back."

Neither of us are detectives, but Grell was spattered with blood in her bloodthirsty frenzy. There is a clear trail of blood droplets leading from the corpse. We follow the path, my heart beating frantically. I want to prevent Grell's mental relapse but am also scared of what she's become. Could it happen to Eric, or maybe even me? Is that insanity or just bloodlust?

We are led to a dark alley where the trail disappears. We've passed a second and third corpse but didn't have enough time to reap them. Now, there is a fourth, a lady almost unrecognizable as human as she is cut into so many pieces strewn across the black pavement. Only her purple hat lays untouched, feathers forlornly dyed red. Guts and internal organs again threaten to make me wretch, so I cover my mouth and move closer to my boyfriend.

"She's here," I guess. "She has to be."

"Hiding," Eric surmises, eyes darting around and surveying our surroundings. The alley is nestled behind brick buildings, and the only object is a garbage can too small to fit a shinigami. The hairs on my arms prickle with tension.

A deep and eerie laugh elicits a scream from me, embarrassingly enough. "The Madam will be pleased with my work. Yes, that whore looks so much better with a red makeover. And she didn't deserve that dress at _all_." The voice is deep and sinister, almost unrecognizable as Grell's. I shiver as I finally spot her, perching atop the building in her heels. Grell cocks her head at us with a smile reminding me of the Cheshire Cat's grin.

"Don't think you can run away. Get down here now, Grell," Eric says, voice hardened without a trace of sympathy.

Grell licks her chainsaw provocatively, still whirring. She doesn't seem to mind the blood that drips down her tongue. She is already covered in sheets of blood, so much that I can barely make out her features. It is a ghastly sight, really, a person cloaked completely in the blood of their victims.

"Oh don't worry, I have no intention of running." Grell leaps from the building and lands behind us. "You aren't on the Madam's list, but what fine hunks of men you are. You know, it's a shame I have to kill you, but you've seen too much."

"Grell, Madam Red is dead!" I protest. "Please calm down. There are consequences for your actions, and you're not in your right mind now…"

Another laugh that makes me really question her sanity causes me to flinch. "Love is my reward for this. And it's _so_ pleasurable to watch those prostitutes scream. _I_ deserve their ability to give birth. Someone has to make them pay for that insolence!"

"We can't reason with it," Eric says. It? That's still Grell, even if she's mentally…out there. "I'll try to subdue it as quickly as possible. You should go find Will because I might need help."

I don't trust leaving them alone with each other. Grell has murder written in her eyes and I know Eric won't hesitate to fight with his scythe. Since a scythe can kill us, I'm too afraid to leave. Ignoring Eric's order, I step towards Grell. "Please," I say softly, reaching out my hand. "I'm sorry that Madam Red is dead, but you have to stop this."

"ALAN!" Eric shouts as Grell leaps at me with her chainsaw on. He pushes me out of the way and I stumble, falling onto the blood-soaked ground. I can only watch in horror as my friend stabs my boyfriend in the chest with her weapon. Tears start pouring from my eyes, but the cut isn't deep enough to be mortal. The wound is enough to show a week's worth of cinematic records, starting with my dating proposition. From Eric's eyes, I look so beautiful. Grell's eyes lose their demonic intent as she silently watches her coworker's cinematic record. When it finishes, she pulls out her scythe with a squelching sound. "Eric?" She asks quietly, shame written all over her features.

He takes a stuttering breath and grabs the wall for support, clutching his chest with the other hand. Blood has already soaked through the shirt material and starts staining his glove the same crimson color. I stumble over to him, determined to help. "Why didn't you listen to me?" He demands when I come into view. "I told you to get help, Alan! You endangered me!"

My stomach clenches and I have no response, feeling useless.

"And _Grell_…" She bites her bottom lip, preparing for an assault of angry yet well-deserved words. "How are you going to make up for this? Not me, those four innocent humans you killed."

I can't tell if Grell is crying or if blood is steaming down her cheeks. Her voice is normal yet shaky. "I don't know what to do…"

"Don't forget about the humans," I answer.

Eric stands up, wobbling without the support of the wall. He grits his teeth as blood starts to gush faster. "Damn," He curses.

This time I'm the one who can support him in his injury. I wind his arm around my neck and we begin to shuffle home. "I hope no humans see us," I say worriedly.

"Lead us through the back alleys, Grell," Eric orders. She complies immediately. While we walk, she keeps looking back at us as if to say something, but doesn't know what words to form.  
"Do you regret killing them?" I ask, breaking the silence

"Of course! I just can't handle…ever since Madam Red died, there's been this constant sadness on my heart. I thought if I killed humans, it would remind me of her, but it just made me guilty." Grell's voice sounds dangerously close to tears. "Maybe I need to take off from work for a while. I'm sorry for hurting you, Eric, I really am."

Eric's voice is surprisingly calm when he asks, "So you loved her?"

"The Madam? I still do." Grell sighs. "That's what makes everything so hard."

"Then I understand. That doesn't make what you did right, but you have my forgiveness." Grell stops walking and turns to Eric with confusion. Neither of us expected his anger to deflate so readily. "I would do the same thing for Alan if I had to."

I'm not sure how to react to his last admission, so our silence is a constant as we finish the walk home. Thankfully, we haven't been detected by humans. I remember those cold, massacred bodies lying on the street. Shinigami don't dispose of the bodies, but I really hope there are people who will remember those humans. They didn't deserve to die that way. No one does.

Ronald has already clocked out, and Will is waiting for us. His expression is furious when he takes in our three forms covered in blood and divines its cause. "This is completely irredeemable! Sutcliffe, I'll do everything in my power to get you demoted. I don't care what our numbers are, we simply cannot allow such an insane shinigami to have fieldwork."

"Please don't be too harsh on Grell," Eric pleads, interrupting our boss' tirade. "He did it out of love."

"I don't care what the reason, he broke and violated everything a shinigami stands for! Killing humans not on the Death List, using a scythe as a weapon against a coworker…" William shakes his head with disbelief. "Wasn't your punishment after the first time you gallivanted as a serial killer enough? What does it take to put values in you?"

"That is Grell's spirit," I say simply. "She does anything for people she cares about. Mr. Spears, sir, she shouldn't be punished for that loyalty and faithfulness. Yeah, take away her scythe and all, but Grell regrets her actions, so please forgive her like we all have."

Will's eyes narrow. "I can't believe you'd be on Sutcliffe's side! I thought you two were respectable. Now, I don't know…" He tsks and turns away. "Go get cleaned up, all of you! I can't have you drip blood throughout this immaculate building. Sutcliffe, you are suspended from work until further notice. I'll talk to my superiors and see if there isn't any way to reform you…" Grell shivers at his sinister expression.

While I still support Eric, we walk to the hallway with our bedrooms. Ron is waiting inside my room and jumps up while we enter; Grell has run off and claimed first shower. "Woah, what happened to you guys?"

I shake my head, not wanting to talk about it. When I brush a bang away from my forehead, a streak of red is left behind.

"What are you doing in my boyfriend's room?" Eric asks curiously.

"Yeah, well, I thought since Alan-senpai's healed now, we can celebrate by going drinking. But I guess you guys are…otherwise indisposed." The blonde shinigami shrugs. "Sorry for the intrusion."

"Actually, that's a good idea. I'm pretty sure we could all use some alcohol now," Eric says with a humorless chuckle. "Thank you for inviting us. We'll leave at seven."

"Great! Looking forward to it," Ronald says, good humor restored. "Um, is there anything I can do to help?" He asks, ogling our bloodstained clothes.

"Change of clothes from my room would be nice," Eric suggests, and the boy leaves to retrieve them.

I want to sit down but don't want to dirty my bed. Eric sinks to the floor and covers his chest with a clenched and bloodied fist. "Let me look at your wound," I say, unbuttoning his shirt. I gasp at its length and can only hope it's not that deep. The skin around the cut is jagged from Grell's chainsaw modifications, and the bloodloss is too much.

"Like what you see?" Eric asks playfully. My eyes dart away from his dark nipples, knowing that although his skin is beautiful, I need to focus on helping him right now.

"If you were a human it would probably be fatal, but we heal faster," I say, ignoring his question. "You'll probably be weak for a while, but you'll be fine as long as it doesn't open again. So, you're in no condition to go drinking tonight."

Eric chuckles. "Oh, Alan, don't worry about me. This is just a scratch."

I harrumph, but have no time to formulate a response when there's a knock on my door. "Come in," I call.

Grell pokes her head through the door timidly. Wow, that's the first time she's ever knocked on a door instead of barging in. She's never been repentant before either, but the expression on her face is just that. "I'm done in the bathroom, so you can clean up in there now if you need to. Sorry about the bloodstains on the floor-they should be cleaned by one of those newbie shinigami later," She says. "Um…" Grell looks downward, fingering the lace on her pink gloves. "I'm really, truly sorry. I know that doesn't make up for it, but I had to tell you. Do you need help, or can I get you anything…?"

My heart feels pity for Grell, stripped of her mask. I don't think this'll last, but she seems so young without her flamboyancy. Her bubbly personality is so joyful that I hope she'll be able to reclaim it, finding a balance between her heart and her happiness. "Actually, yes. In the lounge there should be a first-aid kit in the cupboard right by the door, so if you could get that for us," I suggest.

As soon as Grell leaves, Ronald comes back with Eric's fresh suit. He petitions Grell to join our drinking party, and she reluctantly agrees, seeming preoccupied. Eric and I are left alone once Grell returns with the first-aid.

"I love you," Eric says to me suddenly.

I'm reminded I have only said those words once to him. I wonder what prompted his remark. "I love you forever," I breathe.

Eric smiles, touching my chest. "This heart," He manages, voice straining to sound normal despite pain, "beats for me?"

"Only for you," I whisper seriously.

He brings my fingers to his bloodied chest. "And this heart beats only for you."

I want to be enveloped in his arms, but health precedes physical affection. Already the bleeding is slowing and the wound is shrinking, but it's not regenerating fast enough for my liking. I make Eric swallow Tylenol even though he keeps insisting that he's fine and a man of his vigor can handle this sort of thing. He cries out at the disinfectant, and I squeeze his hand comfortingly. This task of nurturing my injured love feels womanly, but I'm suited for it somehow.

I wrap white cloth bandages around his chest then button up his clean shirt. "I still think you should rest instead of partying," I say disapprovingly.

"We're celebrating your health," He protests.

"At the expense of yours!"

"Princess, you worry too much," Eric replies, ruffling my hair affectionately. "It's kinda cute."

Blushing, I change the topic. "I have to get cleaned up. We can't go in public soaked in blood. Don't you _dare_ barge in on me, so wait until I'm done to wash yourself." An image of Eric naked in the shower steam with that sculpted chest makes me uncomfortably hot, so I dash the tempting picture from my mind.

He grins mischievously. "I'll leave your outfit for tonight outside the shower doors." Oh yes, the girl clothes. They had better be respectable!

We part and I first deposit our bloody clothes to the lounge where young shinigami will clean them. They have an awful hard time removing bloodstains, but I don't have time to start their chore as it's already six. I then take my time letting the blood drain through the shower, also letting any negativity sink away. The floor is spattered crimson like Grell warned. I wonder how many times this shower drained fluids of those who died. Usually, though, we Dispatch aren't so messy with reapings.

Toweling off, I examine the proffered outfit. This evening gown is a deep purple with gloves and a bonnet to match, I suppose to conceal my unacceptably short hair-for a woman, that is. The shoes are, thankfully, flats with a black ribbon and don't squeeze my toes too much. I shimmy into the heavy fabric and am unsurprised by the perfect fit. The dress flares around my arms and the sleeves open at my elbows. A gigantic black bow tied behind my waist finishes the ensemble. I wonder how long it took Eric to sew this.

I thought I would feel awkward or uncomfortable in a dress, but I feel beautiful instead. I look stunning-young and innocent, a slender 'lady' with pretty pale skin and becoming freckles on my cheeks, swathed in a stunning garment.

"Good evening," Grell says, curtsying in her pink gown as I pass her in the hallway.

I stop and face her. "You don't recognize me?"

Grell's jaw drops open. It's a rare occasion where Grell Sutcliffe is shocked speechless. "Wha…? Is that…can that be _you_, Alan?"

I smile in answer, attempting to curtsy back, but failing as I'm not versed in that practice.

Grell stares at me with confusion, slowly blinking eyelashes coated in thick black mascara. "Why are you wearing that?"

"You don't think it looks good?"

"No-I mean, yes, it looks wonderful! I didn't know you had a thing for woman's clothes!" Grell smiles and clasps her hands. "Are you wearing that tonight? I wanna do your makeup! You'd look great with rouge on your cheeks and some eyeliner…"

I hold up my hands, stopping her feminizing tirade. "I'm only doing this so Eric and I can be a couple among humans. I don't need makeup."

Grell pouts. "Are you sure? Because I really, really want to put rouge on those cheeks. Don't you want to be a pretty 'woman'?"

"He's gorgeous already," Eric says huskily, hugging me from behind. I relax into those strong arms wrapped around me. "Isn't this dress perfect for Alan? Next time I might shorten the sleeves, though."

"You _made_ that?" Grell says appreciatively, peering closer at the fabric. "This is a masterpiece! If you're bored, you can make a dress for me too."

"You have plenty," Eric laughs. "Now, Alan, if you'll let me escort you to dinner?" He steps out from behind me and carefully grabs my gloved hand.

"See you soon, Grell," I call as we head towards the cafeteria. She nods and darts off, perhaps struck with inspiration for my wedding dress. In this outfit I naturally walk with more grace, taking lighter steps and standing straighter. However, these clothes are heavier than my normal suit, with the bonnet and multilayered fabric for a dress. I realize real women also have many underclothes, like the slips and corsets.

We eat a brief dinner in the shinigami cafeteria. As seasoned shinigami, we London Dispatch usually eat breakfast in the lounge and lunch at our table in this room. However, we make dinner in the lounge or eat among humans at a pub. Most shinigami eating in the cafeteria now are much younger than us, either attending school or performing menial tasks like doing our laundry before their training is over, whence they receive real scythes and custom-made glasses. I notice their stares at my cross-dressing but am more focused on my sweet conversation with Eric. Although I didn't mind studying, I'm glad the days of university are over-I finally have an important job as Dispatch.

Five minutes to seven, we meet Ronald and Grell outside the doors of our building. "Where are we going?" I ask.

"A new gay bar opened about a mile from here. It's walkable," Ronald suggests.

Grell frowns, probably intending to protest that straight women don't go to gay bars. Eric beats her to it with the argument that, "I'm not going to let other men stare at my Alan. We're going to a regular bar."

"And anyway, it's not called being gay; it's called being fabulous," I interrupt. All I get for this unusual comment is startled stares.

Ronald sighs. "All the attractive guys go to gay bars. But whatever, there's a 'regular' bar not ten minutes from here. Follow me~!"

For outward appearances, it appears that Grell is Ronald's date and I am Eric's. I don't think Grell likes Ron, but I can never be sure who she's fawning over at the moment. Ron, on the other hand, likes everyone; men and women alike. He never has any lasting dates, due to both his young appearance and uncensored mouth. He has told humans when they'll die before, and also picked up some quite inappropriate comments that don't work as pickup lines for proper ladies. (The memory comes to mind that he was almost beaten by an indignant ladies' escort when Ron unexpectedly said to her, "Do you work on a farm? Because you really know how to raise a cock.")

This bar has a more reserved atmosphere as it's open to women until nine. After that hour, the rowdiness is pronounced. Three of us are men, but it'd be rude to stay after Grell has to leave. Grell orders a marguerite and Ronald asks for 'the usual.' Not knowing the names of drinks, I say, "I'll have whatever Ron just ordered."

Eric raises an eyebrow at me. "I don't think you'll want that…"

"Oh, really? I'm not as weak as all that."

"The concoction isn't meant for a ladies' constitution. Perhaps you'll want lemonade instead?" The bartender chimes in.

I stiffen, annoyed at their reactions. The tinkling of my money on the counter ends their arguments. "I'm old enough and quite qualified to drink a little of everything if that's what I desire."

Eric shrugs and orders a beer for himself. We move to a corner table to down our drinks. Although it's so ingrained for Ron to call us 'senpai,' he stops treating us as such and tells jokes and stories, making bawdy and raucous conversation. Grell acts affronted when his language is dirty and smacks him with her pink fan. Eric is amused by their behavior and smiles at me. Usually I'd remain silent in situations like this due to my reserve, but the atmosphere is making me heady. Or at least, something is. Could this be some effect of the drink? But this feels wonderful; I feel light like a cloud and tug at my violet collar. The room seems stuffy and uncomfortably warm, so I yearn for a fan like Grell's.

I wedge my way into the conversation and incite a few laughs of my own while recounting tales of mischief from our schooldays. "Then Eric-can you believe it?-threw him right out the window. The teachers were alerted by the broken glass, so Eric hid in the closet for the rest of the day."

"And I learned a lot about anatomy from the posters in there," He continues, not embarrassed by the memories of his delinquency. "I could probably identify any part by touch or sight now."

"No demonstration in public," Grell interjects as Eric's hand sneaks towards my chest. "To behave like that in front of a lady, _honestly_."

I laugh at the mention of my assumed gender, and soon Ron chimes in uproariously. Grell hides a titter behind her hand while Eric gives a smile of his own. I lean into Eric and heat rushes through me. Suddenly I am very aware of his arm pressing into my back and the smell-spice, I would guess, mingled with a man's sweat. "Thank you for caring about me, all of you, when I was sick. I'm much better now, so this party is very appreciated," I say before the urges of flesh can overcome my propriety. "But as it's nearing nine, we should probably head back."

"Always so conscious of time," Ron sighs. "I'm sure they wouldn't care if we stayed. After all, you both are truly men."

Grell leans in close to his face and bares her sharp teeth. "Apology or death!" She demands, reaching for her safety scissors. Guys, you shouldn't fight in public…

"Sorry, Grell-senpai," Ron says, pressing into his chair. "I gotta head home now!"

After Ron pays for our drinks, we leave the bar and walk back to the shinigami sanctuary. Eric clasps my hand and I sigh in happiness, the cold air whipping my feelings into a frenzy. I don't really understand what I'm experiencing right now-my body is getting uncomfortably excited and I feel the need to play the game with Eric again. I want to kiss him, but I don't know if that alone will suffice.

It's a relief to sit in the lounge as the shoes were finally starting to bite into my feet and the dress was becoming too much of a burden to lift up so the fabric wouldn't dirty. I wonder how Grell can walk in her dress, let alone high heels. Although I'd love to sink into the couch's grip and fall asleep, dizzying adrenaline surges through me inexplicably. Ronald starts to make popcorn and Grell clamors about him, demanding food-now. A shiver goes down my neck as Eric sits beside me. "So, how was it?" He asks. "Your debut as my 'fiancée.'"

My hairs stand straight at the proximity and I suddenly can't resist. Eric's lips are so full and promise wonders. Just looking at the gates of my desire makes the air I breath rich. I grip the collar of his suit and bring my face towards his. I kiss him on the lips, greedily, and his arms naturally entwine around my body, deepening the kiss. The dress ruffles and my bonnet is knocked off, but those sensations are miniscule compared to the roaring flames burning inside me.

Breathing heavily, I break away from the kiss and straddle him, reaching higher with my mouth. The gleaming of his silver earring and stud catch my eye and I lick them. Eric's eyes roll closed and he groans in pleasure. Suddenly he holds me off when he remembers where we are. Argument forgotten, Ron and Grell unabashedly stare at us. Grell reaches out and crunches on popcorn like we are some show.

"Dude, your boyfriend's _wasted_," Ron says, smiling. Grell smacks him without her fan for the rudeness. I don't care if it's indecorous; I want Eric, _now_.

"Excuse us," Eric says, attempting to stand up, but I refuse to let go of him. "Come on, Alan." I shake my head stubbornly and lace my arms around his neck, turning my back on the other shinigami. Right now, Eric and I alone exist in my sphere of love.

"I have extra con-" Ron offers.

"Perhaps it'd be wise if you shut your mouth," Eric says, cracking his knuckles menacingly. Ron backs off, but Eric isn't done with me. Instead of prying away my arms-which would be an easy feat with his superior strength-he lifts me up and carries me to my room. This must be what a damsel in distress feels like, a weak woman who can only flail in the arms of her man. Eric finally deposits me on my bed.

"Goodnight," He says, backing towards the door.

I leap out of the sheets and grab his suit. "Hold on. I'm not done with you!"

"Alan, dear, you are very drunk right now. I don't want to do something that you'd regret, so I'd better leave now."

Indignity flares crimson in my cheeks. "You don't…want me?" I ask quietly.

Eric laughs softly and gently removes my fingers. "You don't know how _much_ I want you right now, and that's the problem. Love, you're very desirable and beautiful and such a great kisser, but it isn't the right time for anything else."

I take his words as a challenge. I can break down that resolve. Maybe it took alcohol to remove my inhibitions, but the feelings I have are true all the same. Quickly, I jump onto my boyfriend, using all my weight to push him onto the floor. He gasps as I begin to kiss him again, on the neck and cheek, bursts of warmth that disguise the nimble unbuttoning of his shirt. Caught off guard by the bandage surrounding his chest once I shrug off the fabric, my movements pause enough for Eric to protest. My mouth shuts off his words and my fingers rub his chest hurriedly, twining through the hairs that somehow make my heart beat faster.

I want to get closer…closer…My breath is heavy while I press atop him and excite him, fingers frenzied like lighting bolts. That should be enough to-

Eyes glazed over by lust, he attempts, "Stop! I…I can't control myself if you-"

When I bite his sensitive earlobe and tug with my teeth, Eric can't help but join in on the fun. I knew I could break him. Eric sits up and pins me under him, taking control. A yell of delight escapes my lips as his fingers dart under my clothes and trace sensitive areas of skin. Soon my shoulders are bare and covered by his lips. He pushes my dress down to my stomach and licks my belly button. Eyes twisted shut, I press into the ground as my pleasure yearns to climax.

"Shit!" He gasps, looking at me. "I left everything in my room, but-Alan, you're a virgin, aren't you?"

The words hit me like a douse of a cold water as I realize what we about to do. Now he probably expects it, and our bodies can't be stopped now-but I'm not ready for that. It's my fault for leading him up to it then stopping callously. "I can't do that," I say, breath hitching as tears start forming in my eyes, afraid of the consequences. "I'm sorry." My body is still too sultry and belies intentions opposed to my words.

Eric manages to stop touching me and gets up, sitting at my desk chair and trying to compose himself. "Don't cry, darling. You're drunk-I'm to blame for letting this go on so long."

"But…" My body aches from the cruel end to physical affection and my passion needs to explode. "Doesn't it…hurt?" I don't want to mention 'it' by name as I still feel too awkward, but surely Eric must be feeling the same urge to release.

Eric gives me a wan smile. "Even now you worry about others before yourself, my admirable little shinigami. But although you came close to it, you didn't push me over the edge. I'll go clean up in the bathroom and come back to tuck you in." He shrugs on his discarded clothes and leaves without another word.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Slowly, the overpowering aching is replaced by a dull throbbing and my body reverts to normal instead of the crackling, sexual fire that consumed me earlier. I feel so disoriented. It doesn't help that my head is throbbing, probably a lingering effect of that strong drink, but I don't know what to think about what just happened. We didn't actually do…the _deed_…but we came so, so close to it. What if Eric hadn't stopped? What if I hadn't let him?

But why am I so afraid of that? Couples that aren't married shouldn't go that far, of course, but since Eric and I can't officially get married (by human standards), does it matter? We are fiancés, wholly devoted to each other; that's enough of a commitment. Is it that I am too young, too inexperienced? Is it that I'm afraid to let my body's physical urges surpass my brain's control? It would be a shame if only my shyness is preventing me from sharing such a passionate activity with my love.

I sigh, knowing that overthinking things will only be stress, added to the fact that I'm worried about Grell's job. Now that it's in danger, her mental state might only get worse. Eric is right; I can't fix everything and can't help everyone, but I feel the urge to all the same.

So maybe I just want to slow down my relationship with Eric. Or I could be-no, Alan, stop worrying about it! I'll have to ask Grell later; I'm sure she'll have advice for my love life.

I finish pulling the dress off and feel much lighter, exposing my wet skin to the darkness of night. I shan't drink so much again if it causes to me to act so amorous in front of my coworkers. Silk pajamas wrap me in their comfort, and I attempt to appear unruffled by combing my hair. The mirror shows my lips red and swollen.

Finally I sink into the coldness of my bedsheets. The wool blankets aren't enough of a presence; I yearn to wrap my arms around his solid body, feeling protected against anything the night can throw at a shinigami afflicted with a conscience. When he finally knocks, I readily call, "Come in!" I guess I can't casually sling around endearments.

Eric is silent so the padding of his footsteps is audible as he glides over to me like some ghostly apparition. Standing beside my bed, the moonlight spilling from the half-shaded window renders my fiancé in shades of white and gray. "Alan-" His deep timbre penetrates the stillness.

"Shh," I interrupt, holding a single finger to his lips, as swollen as mine. "Don't say anything, not now. Now, it's my turn." He looks at me quizzically as I sit up in my bed. "I'll sing to you to return the favor."

My voice sounds fragile encompassed by inky silence, but the words swell in my heart and soul. I heard this haunting melody when I had the Thorns of Death, and only now did I realize what it means and who taught me that meaning. I sing about the stars that shine after death and how I wish to be like them, and then describe the loneliness of birth and death, but the purpose was so I could meet _him_.

Eric bows his head then looks up a few minutes after my voice fades away. "That was beautiful," He says seriously, eyes glimmering with unshed tears. "So beautiful. You're like the Erica flower, so delicate and precious. I want to cradle and protect you forever. Alan, to me, you're more important than everything."

I stare into his bright green eyes glimmering with love, feeling the strong emotion caressing me. "Please then, do so." I bring my arms out in a reach that he falls into so I can pull him close for a long embrace. Eric's arms belong wrapped around my back in return.

"I'll never leave your side," He continues, pledging his eternal love and life to me. I love how Eric gets poetic at warm moments like these.

"Don't leave," I whisper as he attempts to end our hug. "I want to sleep in your arms tonight."

Eric sighs. "I don't know if I can control myself, being that close to you…"

"You did before, and I believe in you. Love is more than just lust." I clasp his hands, massaging the rough knuckles.

"Before we're married, we can sleep in my room too," He decides, rolling into bed at my side. I didn't realize before that I haven't seen Eric's room; when I entered his lair to ask him out, I was too flustered to take in the surroundings. I wonder if it's plain and free of decorations. Maybe that is another spot like nature where he can meditate, so no one has entered that sanctuary before.

"I'd be honored to." Perhaps then I'll be ready to do more than just sleep. I am gladdened by the fact that Eric is perceptive in listening to me and tries his hardest to restrain himself, if only for my sake.

Although I leave my glasses on even in sleep-removing them at other times is akin to quitting-my vision has been hampered by the darkness, so I can't make an inventory of Eric's beautiful face. Without sight, my body can still feel his, fitting naturally into the groove of my chest. Blankets shift over our forms, so I am comforted completely, like a baby at rest in its mother's womb. "Good night, love," Eric says, planting a single kiss on my forehead.

"Dream of me tonight," I say in return before sleep gently closes my eyelids.

Again I wake before my love, but this time I have been awakened by Grell. "Wow, that's not awkward," She says, staring at our entwined bodies.

I blush and extract myself from Eric's sleeping figure. "Didn't you knock?"

"A door cannot slow Grell," She says, smiling. "Now, I have come bearing the most _wonderful_ news. Today is not just a normal Saturday; there's a ball at the Phantomhive's that we're going to!"

"We had plans," Eric says, apparently awakened by Grell's exuberant exclamation. Did we now?

"A ball is much more extravagant! Anyway, Will is going too." A sinister smile turns up Grell's lips. "_And_…you'll get to show off your fiancé in public. Everyone in Dispatch is going, so don't even try to get out of it, Eric."

"Why would our boss go?" Eric asks. "He's always declined social occasions before."

"Something about some reaping there at midnight he has to do. I offered to do the job instead, but I guess humans don't just tote weapons around? So I'm not allowed to bring my chainsaw. Plus, Will's still mad at me. He was giving me the _dirtiest_ looks; it was pretty enjoyable. You know the way he pushes up those glasses when he's annoyed…" Grell sighs happily and uses her fan to send a breeze across her flushed face.

Eric sits up and brushes his straggly hair from his eyes, turning to me. "Do you want to go, Alan?"

"A ball sounds lovely," I say, surprised to be using such a girly term. Maybe the dress is affecting my mental state too. No; I like wearing girly clothes, but that doesn't mean I'm a girl. I'm simply a man with a prominent effeminate side, unlike Grell, an actual woman.

Eric kisses me on the lips quickly like a short greeting acceptable in the presence of others. "We'll go as an engaged couple, then," Eric says, lacing his fingers around mine and giving them a squeeze while looking at Grell. "What time shall we leave?"

"Y-yes…" Grell stutters, apparently off-balanced by the sudden display of affection. "I'll get a carriage for 7 P.M., and we'll probably get back sometime tomorrow morning."

"Okay. Thank you for inviting us," I say, tilting my head and smiling at her. "Remember that you can always talk to me about anything."

Grell nods, taking the subtle cue to leave. Eric and I are left alone to bathe in the late morning light. "Your wound!" I belatedly remember, hands at once pulling off his shirt.

"Can't get enough of me, huh, Alan?" Eric says with a bright smile crinkling his eyes. I pause to drink in that golden look before attending to him. The bandage is soaked but the wound is finally healed. His flesh must have reknitted itself overnight, hiding any signs of injury. Relief enables me to give him a peppy smile in return.

Eric's hand touches my chin lightly in a caress. "My little shinigami…" He hugs me and I enthusiastically return the embrace, warmed by the closeness and intimateness of what we share. I wouldn't mind spending the rest of the day like this, safe and happy in my love's arms-but we have a ball to prepare for.

We separate to freshen ourselves. After showering, I discover a noticeable red sore on my arm. Today he had to give me a sleeveless dress, didn't he? This dress is pale blue, somehow bringing out my emerald eyes, and poofs around my waist like a plump pumpkin. I have to lace up a corset-a very difficult task to accomplish for the first time without a maid-as the dress opens under my collarbones and requires support. My gloves are only elbow-length, and the giant blue bows tied above each shoulder aren't enough to draw attention away from the mark. Embarrassing, when I realize Eric's lips vigorously marking my skin there is what caused it.

Well…Grell says that makeup can make even the ugliest of women beautiful, so I'm sure that it can cover up my blotchy red spot. As I head to her room, I'm intercepted by my fiancé.

"Already wearing the dress? You didn't have to put it on until tonight, you know," He says, decked out in not a suit but his normal outfit; black skinny jeans with a leather belt, shiny black loafers, and a skintight black shirt with the Japanese character for 'life.'

I shrug. "I don't mind wearing it. It makes me feel pretty, so who cares what others think?" I wish people wouldn't give me critical looks; there's nothing wrong with cross-dressing.

"Princess, you're _always_ pretty." Well, of course he'd have to say that, but I know he believes it-and so do I. Eric smiles as he assesses my outfit. I guess he didn't notice…? His finger, a digit usually hidden by a glove, lightly touches the mark. "Too rough…" He mutters to himself with a pondering look in his eyes.

"I'm going to ask Grell about, um, covering it," I say quickly, slightly embarrassed. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to bite so hard-"

The scent of overused cologne alerts me to another shinigami's presence. "_What _did I just hear?" My ears redden when I realize what Ronald must be thinking-and for once, his assumptions are probably right.

Eric, it's up to you to diffuse this awkward situation. "See you soon," I call over my shoulder, grabbing my skirts and swishing through the hallways.

I knock at Grell's door, but without an answer, I enter anyway. She is preoccupied with drawing at her desk, hair in a loose ponytail as she twirls a quill pen. Today her outfit is surprisingly casual; a crimson sweater pulled over silver leggings with her characteristic black-and-red heels.

Grell is inking a portrait of Madam Red on parchment paper. "I didn't know you were an artist," I say. Alerted to my presence suddenly, Grell's hand jerks out and accidentally spills the pot of ink, obscuring the woman's lips and chin in a swath of blackness to contrast the vivid red of the rest of her appearance. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to startle you, and now look-I've ruined your picture…"

Grell shoves the picture aside and turns to me, giving a small sad smile. "It's okay, Alan, really. Simple lines can't convey her perfection anyway." Her radioactive green eyes sparkle when she notices my outfit. "What a fabulous dress! You could be an ice queen, a cold lover-oh, that would make such a wonderful story."

"If you're busy, I can come back later…" I say, still feeling bad about interrupting her.

"Grell always has time for her friends!" The redheaded shinigami inspects me, tiny skull chains swaying as she moves her head. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Eh?" Does she think Eric and I are having relationship issues? "No, no. Um, would you be able to cover this mark?" I indicate the red spot still visible on my arm.

"Easily, dear." Grell strides to her mirror and rummages in the drawers beneath bursting with makeup. She peruses various brown crumbly substances and selects one that matches my skin color most closely. After being dabbed on and rubbed in, there is no sign of the blemish.

"Thank you." Although I should go back to Eric now, I notice that Grell still seems wistful. Suddenly, an idea to cheer up my friend again opens my mouth. "Hey, maybe we could hang out in London before the ball?"

Grell bites her lip. "I…" I tense as she seems on the verge of refusing. I know it isn't good for her to be locked in her room all day with only her thoughts for company. "Actually, that sounds fun, Alan. I'm not dressed for an excursion, so I'll have to change first."

As Grell gets ready, I search for Eric to tell him my plans. He is sitting alone in the lobby (Knox must have run off) with legs crossed. "Alan!" He exclaims upon seeing me, picking me up and swinging me around like a child. The wind ruffles my hair but nevertheless brings a smile to my face. He finally sets me down, breathless, and I am able to speak. I could get used to such a sweet greeting.

"So Grell and I are going into London today. We'll be back before the ball."

Eric shakes his head. "You're not going to leave me lonely on a Saturday."

"Sorry, but I don't think she'd want you to come with us," I shrug apologetically.

He smiles knowingly. "Women must be accompanied by men in public; it's a human rule." Unless they have a maid to escort them, which we don't.

"_I'm_ a man!"  
"You don't look like one in that dress." Oh, I guess he has a point. "I will be your male escort today. I promise I'll be on my best behavior."

"You _better_ be," I warn. "And don't kiss me in front of her; it'll make Grell jealous."

"What about holding hands?"

"An escort wouldn't be on such familiar terms with the ladies he looks after. Pretend you're my butler or something."

"Yes, my lady," Eric says, kneeling at my feet. I blush but at the same time revel in this power. It's fun to have control sometimes. Eric already does his best to please me, but today he'll follow my commands to the letter, so I won't let this go to waste.

Grell enters the room in a violet gown with a mauve wrap-and, of course, matching fan, heels, and makeup. Eric stands a respectful distance from me and nods to her. "I will be your escort today."

Grell purses her purple-stained lips. "Oh. Well, what are we doing today, Alan?"

I shrug. Grell and I usually shop around town, but I don't want to bore Eric, although I guess he'll be in the background in this role. New things are always fun too, though. "We could go to the opera or the zoo or something."

"Isn't the circus in London this weekend?" Eric suggests.

"Their _clothes_," Grell gasps. "Such daring outfits under the circus lights and acrobatics that show the vigor of the human form! We'll definitely go there." Her face lights up while cheeks flame, a sure sign of the inner fangirling.

Alan's idea has been vetoed, it seems. A quick glance at my watch ascertains the time. "Okay. It's about noon, so we can head to a park for lunch and then go to the circus."

After ordering a carriage, Eric changes into his uniform. We meet our transportation when it rolls to a stop near the shinigami building. The horses whinny as my love helps Grell into the carriage. He lifts me onto the steps and climbs in after we are settled in the plush seats. The muted colors here are soothing, as is the velvet curtain giving us the illusion of being in our own small world.

Grell fingers with a jewel on her wrap and has a distant look in her eyes. "A penny for your thoughts," I say, disrupting the silence.

"I'm just thinking about…last time I rode a carriage." She breathes out slowly and her shoulders slump. "I sat right beside her-she was where you are now. The Madam was wearing a dress that really emphasized her curves and she noticed my eyes were straying so she kissed them…and, and that was the day…that I…killed her." Her voice gets quieter throughout this admission so by the end it's a wistful whisper.

"Grell…" I say with sympathy, grasping her hand.

She turns to me. "Alan, there's something I really should have done a long time ago. We are going to visit Angelina Dalles' grave." Grell parts the curtains and gives directions to the coach driver. I hope that this can finally give her some much-needed closure.

The mood is solemn as Eric helps us descend from the carriage. The driver waits discreetly behind trees for our brief intermission. My ears are attuned to the crackling of gravel beneath our shoes and the melancholy whisper of wind through orange leaves. Humans commemorate their beloved dead with cold slabs of gray stone protruding from the earth.

Grell kneels before the grave of her love and Eric and I stand a respectful distance back. I closely watch her actions, hoping that she can finally unleash the dam of grief, but also worried that she might turn murderous again. A single rose lies before Madam Red's grave already, seemingly plucked a few months earlier. "Who would have visited?" Eric asks quietly.

"Ciel Phantomhive was her nephew," I answer in the same hushed tone.

Grell leans her forehead against the cold stone and mumbles something, maybe attempting to talk with her dead love. Her hand reaches out and traces the name's letters but pauses upon the death date. This time when she begins to wail, I hold myself back from comforting her. Grell needs to mourn in order to recuperate. When her tears stop falling, she plucks a flower from a bush and lays it next to Ciel's. Grell continues to talk and unbuttons her wrap, sliding it onto the grave.

This has taken about twenty minutes while Eric and I stand still and silent, watching with concern. Grell finally stands up, brushing dirt from her dress. "Goodbye, Madam Red." She hurries to the carriage without a word to us, red hair streaming in the breeze.

The ride to the circus is uncomfortable as Grell maintains her silence. I wonder how she is feeling and don't know if entertainment is the best way to get her mind off her love's death-or even if she should be focusing on something else at all. Imagining Eric's death is too scary; I'm so proud that Grell can go on living at all. She is a much stronger shinigami than I'll ever be.

Grell smiles perkily when we enter the circus, pointing out the benefits and drawbacks of their wardrobes. She seems normal, but I remember her scary breakdown last time. "Grell, are you really all right?" I ask as people chatter around us.

Grell clasps her hands to her chest, attempting to answer honestly. "I…don't…know…" As we sit down, Eric goes to get food for us and I change the subject. "I hope that this circus will be enjoyable for you." If only in shinigami school we learned how best to converse about death and how to comfort a grieving friend, for I am feeling inadequate on the topic.

Grell examines her red nails as the lights dim, and Eric quickly seats himself before the booming voice announces the various acts highlighted in this circus. The crowd's atmosphere is festive, cheers and clapping encircling us. Grell nibbles on candy corn and surveys the scene below. I do the same, deciding that now is time for enjoyment, not worrying.

With much pomp, the ringmaster introduces the acrobats as they flip and fly through the air. The tightrope-walker places one foot confidently, steadily in front of the other while she juggles brightly-painted balls. I gasp when the knife-thrower almost skewers the lady flattened against a board and flinch when a buff man swallows a sword. Eric's hand unconsciously laces through my trembling one. My timidity is ridiculous when I look at the shinigami's impassive faces. Grell's eyes shine when someone braves the ring of flames, but I have to look away, reminded of the inferno that infected me with the Thorns of Death.

The grand finale is announced: a black-striped tiger and his tamer will show the dominance men have over beast, or something to that effect. I hope that the tiger is well-fed and treated humanely. The tamer calls for audience participation, but I'm barely listening, trying to calm my nerves that some acts excited. "The lady in the light blue dress in the back-please come into the ring!"

Grell nudges me and I look to her with bemusement. "That's you," She whispers. Eh? What? _Me_?! The audience is silent, and heads swivel to face 'the lady in the blue dress' as my skin turns the color of beets.

"Would you please come down, madam?"

Couldn't they have picked Grell? _She _doesn't get stage fright, I'm sure. Well, I guess I'm conspicuous in a ball gown. I reluctantly stand up and traipse down the steps until I'm among the circus performers. "What's your name, ma'am?" The tamer asks as I approach her.

"Um…uh…" I stutter, nerves jolting around in my stomach. I'm supposed to be a girl right now, so, "Erica?"

"Well, Miss Erica, I am going to ask you to do something that will seem unusual, but I promise that no harm will come to you. This tiger is competently trained and recognizes me as his sole master." The tamer cracks her whip and the tiger opens his mouth wide. "Please place your head in his mouth."

Suddenly, terribly, I recall the girl who infected me with Thorns of Death; she was treated as a doll and forced to participate in a dangerous circus of children. Now I understand the fear this circus has given me. That broken girl watched tigers bite children's heads off, and she had to wipe the blood off the floor while others dragged the mangled body away. My heart hammers loudly in my chest and fear causes me to step back. I don't think a tiger can kill me, but I don't want to be a chew toy! "Don't worry," She says, noticing my hesitation. "He's trained _not_ to bite your head off." The audience laughs, but my stomach tightens with apprehension.

But Eric would have no problem with this. He wouldn't fear a tiger's maw. I can prove myself; I may be weak, but I'm not a wimp. With a throbbing heart, I walk towards the beast and tell myself that he's just an oversized kitty. I slowly kneel, skirts spreading over the polished floor. Sweat drips down my back and I shiver, noticing the size of the tiger's teeth. I close my eyes and lower my head into his mouth.

A few seconds later, the audience starts cheering and I take the cue to right myself. The tamer grabs my hand in celebration, but I feel like screaming. Why does it exhilarate humans so to flirt with death? The tiger seems to grin at me as I hurry back to my seat while the circus wraps up its performance. I collapse into Eric's arms and release a pent-up breath. "That looked fun!" Grell squeals. "Good job, Alan!"

"'Erica', huh?" Eric says, smiling. I sag with relief against him now that my difficult task is over, still shaking with nerves. "Oh my, were you that scared?"

"Yes," I admit, embarrassed. "I don't like circuses, okay?" Circuses were those poor souls' nightmares.

"But that adrenaline feels _wonderful_," Grell continues. "Watching humans willingly endanger themselves is a thrill! Plus, I love their makeup. Even the men are wearing it-look!" At least Grell is happy, but I just yearn for calmness.

As we pile back into the carriage, Eric and Grell banter over our next destination. "Can we just go home? Sorry guys, I'm kind of tired."

"Are you not feeling well?" Eric asks, placing his hand against my forehead. "Your temperature's fine…"

I don't want to mention that when I close my eyes, the tiger's salivating teeth haunt me. "I think I just need to rest. We've had a hectic past couple of days, after all."

Grell nods and gives directions to the coach driver and we are soon home at the London shinigami headquarters.

"So don't forget that we're leaving at seven for the ball. See you then~!" Grell calls as she heads to her room. I watch the woman cloaked in purple disappear from sight then turn to Eric.

"I'm sorry," I say softly, tilting my head back to get a clearer view of his handsome face.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Alan."

I blush, deciding to get this off my chest. "But I…I'm so…weak-" Not just with the tiger, but in all situations I seem lacking compared to my coworkers-and that bothers me. But how can I compensate for an inborn trait?

Eric brings his lips to mine swiftly before I can finish that sentence. I melt into his embrace and sigh as his arms support me from behind. "Weak? No. You're just delicate, and that's not a fault." As I open my mouth to protest, he gently kisses me again, nothing like the passionate ones of yesterday. "It is an honor, not a burden, to protect you. You've always been my little shinigami, and my arms will always shelter you. Your frailty is endearing, and you are beautiful and perfect just as you are. Don't try to change yourself based on how others act."

I lace my arms around his neck and beam. "Thank you, Eric." I really needed to hear that.

"I always happen to walk by at moments like this," Ronald gripes. I see him skirting us in the small hallway out of the corner of my eye but am too caught up in the way it feels to be held by the man I love.

Standing on tiptoes my lips are able to brush his ear. "It'll be like this forever, won't it?" I whisper hopefully.

With our strong connection, I don't have to elaborate. "Yes, it will." He carefully tucks a wisp of hair behind my ear. "Eternity has meaning with you at my side." My contented smile widens and we stare into each other's eyes-purported windows to the soul-for precious minutes.

"Ah! But weren't you tired?" It should be expected that all perfect moments are interrupted. I shake my head, intending to protest that I'm better now, but he leads me to my room anyway. That bed does look awfully welcoming..."I'll wake you before the ball so we can eat. Please rest; I have to look out for your health."

"You're the one who got stabbed in the chest and went drinking the same night," I say defensively, annoyed that he doesn't think I'm capable enough to take care of my own health. Eric just smiles at me knowingly, so I kick off my pinching shoes and sink into my bed, the dress' fabric splaying over the sides. I open an eye, surprised, when Eric tucks my blankets under my chin rather than climbing in beside me.

"I have to go talk to Will," He explains, noticing my inquisitive glance.

"About what?" I ask, surprised.

"Grell. I'm going to try to get that shinigami out of trouble, but it'll be a difficult battle." I hope he means that metaphorically.

"I thought you disliked her…"

Eric shrugs. "Well, although she annoys me, her heart's in the right place. I didn't understand Grell at all until I found out about Madam Red. Plus, if she got demoted, you would have to work overtime and might catch a cold or something." Aw, that's really sweet, Eric! This kind side of him warms my heart.

Eric kisses me on the forehead. "Sweet dreams, love." He tenderly gazes at me then stands up and strides to the door.

"I love you too," I call as he opens it, flooding the room with light.

His hand pauses on the brass doorknob. "I'll do my best to be worthy of that love." Then he's gone and the room is once again shadows, but my heart still shines with light.

My head sinks into my pillow and happiness sings like angels in my thoughts. I can't believe I lived the majority of my life without this feeling, for now it wants to be a part of all my actions and thoughts. I am thrilled for our wedding, and even the ball tonight is sure to be a grand occasion and fond memory. I love Eric so, so much! My eyelids flutter closed and his face paints the landscape of my dreams.

When I wake up, a sandwich is shoved inside my mouth. I chew slowly, tasting peanut butter and some sort of jelly-peach. "What time is it?" I ask after swallowing fresh water placed on my nightstand.

"We have twenty minutes. Sorry, that took longer than I expected."

"How'd it go?" I ask Eric.

He shrugs. "Well…we all know our boss is stubborn. After a long verbal war, it seems that I have been assigned as Grell's supervisor; if she messes up, the responsibility is solely mine."

"You'd take that responsibility?" I ask with surprise. We all now how much Grell 'messes up.'

Eric eats a sandwich of his own. "Coworkers help each other, and I can't just abandon a lovesick woman to face the consequences of some mistake all on her own. A true man wouldn't do that."

I sit up and kiss a crumb off his chin. "I admire you."

Eric bows slightly. "If I've impressed Alan, I must be doing something right."

After we finish our meal, Eric helps smooth the creases in my dress and brushes my hair. I notice that he is now in a swallow-tailed black suit with his tie for once knotted tightly at his neck and collar closed. "You look really nice in that," I say as we hustle to meet the other shinigami with the carriage.

"I'm not going for 'nice,'" Eric argues. "Am I attractive? Handsome? Professional?"

"Nice," I repeat. "Wonderfully nice."

I laugh as Eric puts on a mock frown and berates me for not appreciating the hard work put into wearing such clothes. "I'll help you take them off," I tease.

Before he can reply, Knox catches sight of us and yells, "Took you long enough!"

"Nice to see you too," Eric replies.

Grell runs up to me and hugs me. She's not usually so affectionate, but she has to glean comfort from any source now that she's finally confronting the death of Madam Red. With a slight twinge of conscience I recall the dress I started sewing for Grell on my sickbed and its uncompleted state.

Well, the ball gown she's wearing now suits her well enough. Grell does have a knack for fashion; I've never seen her wear anything less than beautifully, and I'm slightly envious. It is, of course, red; as puffy as mine and with an enormous black ribbon tied at the back. Although it covers Grell's shoulders, the dress opens at her back and reveals well-defined shoulder blades jutting from thin pale skin. A silver jewel slopes down her chest and lacy crimson gloves are pulled past her elbows. Grell's makeup is especially thick, and I notice her heels are unusually high tonight-definitely dressed for the party. Even her hair is elaborate, pulled up in a bun instead of hanging straight like usual.

"You look stunning, Grell," I compliment.

"Grell's stunning, and all I get is 'nice'?" Eric complains.

"Hey, I'm all decked up _too_," Ronald interrupts, gesturing to his suit and flashy red tie.

"Thanks, Alan." Grell smiles and tilts her head at Eric expectantly. "Well, what did you ask me to bring _these_ for?" She pulls four sickles from her corset. The weapons gleam in the moonlight and I gasp. Those are the training scythes we had as new shinigami! Why would Eric tell Grell to bring weapons to a human ball?


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

When the driver reminds us of the time, Eric has to help us into the carriage before continuing the conversation. William got his own carriage; he wouldn't ride with us although our destination is the same. I rest my hand in my fiancé's as Ronald and Grell stare at him. "I found out-no matter how-that Mr. Spears is reaping a soul tonight at the ball, at midnight. Of course people die at all times, but this is not a mere coincidence. We are going to the Phantomhive's, and a death at their ball can only be a murder."

Ronald yawns with boredom. Grell's reaction, on the other hand, is excitement. "I hope there's a lot of blood!"

Eric grits his teeth. "You don't _understand_! This girl is not supposed to die today. She's supposed to die when she's eighty-three, but she's only ten now. What would a ten-year-old be doing at a ball, anyway? Something's wrong here. Someone's been tampering with the cinematic records."

Grell gasps, hands clenching the weapons in place of her usual fan. "Tampering with the-? But that's impossible!"

"It's a shinigami," I realize. "Humans couldn't have done it." I suppose a demon or an angel could have infiltrated the building too.

Eric nods, satisfied. "Alan's right, but it wasn't any of the London shinigami."

"Some foreigner?" Grell asks with a displeased expression.

"Worse: a traitor. A shinigami who discarded his glasses and joined the human world."

Immediately chills course down my back and a negative feeling sinks over me. Quitting just isn't done. Unlike a human job, this is the species we were born into; we have no other choices. A shinigami who tried to integrate into human society that was used to peering at their souls and witnessing their deaths would be warped with power and do unspeakable things like a demon.

"You mean…the statue in our library? That dude?" Knox remembers.

I'm surprised he caught on so fast, but it makes sense now. The nameless man with long silver hair was a great shinigami; we learned his feats in our textbooks. We called him 'the First' as he is perhaps the oldest. But we've never seen him personally, and so he must have quit. I never realized that supposedly great man was a traitor…

"Oh," Eric says. "I had no idea who it could be. I knew there was a shinigami who quit, but there wasn't much information about him."

"Don't just assume this shinigami is male," Grell interrupts.

"Well, to have a scythe this shinigami must be Dispatch, and you're the first female Dispatch," I explain. In a male chauvinistic society it breaks protocol for women to have a field job such as reaping, but Grell gets away with it since most paint her male due to her body's limitations, ignoring her soul's female reality.

Eric continues, "So I detected this shinigami's handwriting in her cinematic record. We've heard of the legendary shinigami weapons, the 'Death Bookmark' and 'Death Pen,' and this guy has them in his possession. He plans to murder this girl at midnight, but I couldn't find out in what room or how he'll try to steal her soul."

"Well?" Grell says expectantly, stroking the tiny sickles. "You must be telling us this for a reason. What can we do about it, hnn?"

"Maybe if you stop interrupting…" Grell apologizes so Eric can finish speaking. "Yes, we should all enjoy this ball, but stay on the lookout for a silver-haired man with bright green eyes. Hide the scythes in your clothes, and call us when you see him. For we'll fight him off and save the child."

"But isn't that tampering with the cinematic records too?" Ronald asks.

Eric shakes his head vehemently. "No! She isn't _meant_ to die today, and I won't have it happen!"

"A ten-year-old girl," Grell mutters, eyes darkening as she looks down at her skirts. She clenches her fist with sudden resolve and meets my gaze defiantly. "I'll protect her. I won't let a child that could have been mine get murdered!"

As the carriage rolls to a stop in front of the Phantomhive mansion, Grell hands out our scythes. I would conceal mine in my bonnet then realize that'll be removed before we enter the dance floor. The only convenient place to stash it is in my corset. The men can fit tiny sickles in their pockets.

I leap into Eric's arms as he tries to help my out of the carriage. He stumbles back, surprised, but is in no danger of dropping me. His arms support my voluminous skirts and my legs dangle against his stomach. "Miss 'Erica', I'll have you know that was a breach of etiquette," Grell warns.

I surprise even myself when I answer to that name. "So?" I say brazenly, pressing my cheek against Eric's. "I love him, so it's natural for me to be affectionate." It's a great comfort that I can profess my love so easily now.

"Mr. Slingby: unless you want to make a scene, I'd advise you to set your 'fiancée' down." Grell's tone is serious and I feel somewhat wounded. I don't care if humans stare at us; acting distant isn't natural. Eric sighs but sets me on the ground carefully. "Now, Grell knows about human society, and etiquette is followed precisely. Any infractions will result in ostracization, and that won't be a pleasant evening. I'll tell you what you need to know." Grell outlines the aspects of a ball, and it seems this evening is more complicated and regulated than I realized.

All ladies need an escort so Grell will be mine. This job would most often fall to a maid, but shinigami don't utilize servants. Sure, young shinigami do chores for us, but that's not their entire lives. It seems ladies must dance with a variety of gentlemen-so I only get to dance with Eric four times! I don't want to be handled by random human men. What if one of them realizes I'm only pretending to be a lady? I can't imagine the embarrassment if my pretense is discovered-and I could even be kicked out of the ball! The reaction would be worse if Eric and I went as an openly gay couple, however.

Eric reluctantly leaves Grell and I to the dressing room. We remove our wraps and a red-haired maid with large glasses stores them somewhere. I'm more overwhelmed by being in a room full of women and attempting to blend in. Grell's breathing gets heavier as she takes in the swaths of fabric and I know she wants to rip the clothing right off the ladies' bodies and add them to her wardrobe. "Hey, Grell," I say, attempting to divert her attention. "Do I look like a girl?"

"No one would expect a guy to wear a dress at a ball like this," She answers, still staring at some fanciful gowns.

"But do I _really_ look female? I mean, my hair is so short…"

Grell finally drags her eyes away from the excess clothing and looks at me. "Are you worried of getting exposed? You just have to act female, Miss 'Erica,' and no one will ever suspect you."

"How?"

Grell's eyes light up, excited that her expertise on femininity is needed. "Well, your voice for one. Raise your voice so it's higher-pitched; not too excessively-make sure it doesn't sound fake-but enough that you sound womanly. This isn't my natural voice, you know; I have to work to sound this fabulous." I remember the deep voice Grell had in the alley and wonder if that's how she'd naturally sound. Sadly, puberty must have hit her harder than me, giving that woman a manly voice.

"I…see," I answer, testing out the higher range of my vocal cords. My voice sounds light and quieter and luckily doesn't crack.

"Of course, it's not as much of a problem for you as your voice isn't too deep. The way you talk should be different too; more…elegant. Ladies never swear, of course. Try to speak politely at all times, and a girly giggle can be just as useful as a pause in conversation."

I chuckle softly for practice, but that's too embarrassing to be used as a continuous tactic.

"Nice try, Alan-oops, I mean 'Miss Erica.' Now, your body language must also be feminine." Grell delicately raises a hand in front of her forehead in example. "See, don't move too quickly. Stand gracefully; raise yourself to your full height and take tiny steps." She claps in delight as I practice walking like a princess, gliding to the other end of the room with head held high.

"And most importantly, all ladies should have a pretty hairstyle and makeup with gorgeous gowns to match. Red is the best color, of course." My shinigami friend again reaches into her corset to produce her makeup bag. I wonder what else she keeps in there. "You can't object to makeup now, surely?"

"Just don't overdo it," I warn.

"Don't worry! Grell's had a lot of practice."

I try to sit still as Grell dabs various colors onto my face, but my eyes get watery and I can't help but fidget. Her fingers stay steady on my face but some eyeliner smears that she dabs away with a wet cloth provided by a servant. "I _love_ it when guys wear makeup and dresses," Grell comments after her handiwork is completed and we look in a mirror. "And you look so natural, Al-um, 'Miss Erica.'" I nod with a slight blush coloring my cheeks. As I have a slender and feminine body, clothes and makeup can really pass me as a girl. A pretty one too.

Eric waits near the dressing room's door so we go to meet up with him. "Mr. Slingby," Grell says, nodding, putting on a show of formality. He bows slightly then meets my eyes as I place my small hand in his. "Before the ball starts, remember to fill out the dance cards," Grell reminds as she hands the square parchment to us. "I know you aren't attracted to girls, but to keep up appearances, you really need to dance with them. Ask their escorts for an introduction, Eric, before promising them a dance. 'Miss Erica' and I will be approached by men who'll fill our cards quickly."

"And remember to look out for that shinigami. At midnight we'll have to fight him," Eric points out, determination making the green in his eyes harden. I nod, feeling the cold metal scythe pressing against my bosom.

Ronald finds us as people walk around the room getting introduced and promising dances. "You'll have to be my first dance," Grell says with a curled lip, shoving her card at him. He shrugs and signs it before approaching random human women. I'm surprised that men flock to Grell and I so readily. Our dresses aren't more elaborate than other women's, and I know our beauty is no more radiant, but maybe they have a subconscious pull to the two nonhumans standing in their presence.

Soon my dance card is full and I want to sit down. It's straining to act docile and flirtatious while repeating "Sir, I'd be pleased to have this dance" to strangers when all I want is to spend the evening with my fiancé. Grell is enjoying herself immensely, practically swooning under all the attention. If she became an actress, I'm sure her career would be successful.

Eric finds his way back to us when he has promised enough ladies dances. Jealousy does not prick me since I know he has eyes only for me, and I for him. "This is much too pompous," He complains, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.

"Not really," Grell exclaims, clasping her hands beneath her chest. "This is wonderfully fun, and the dance hasn't even started yet!" She gets distracted when another man asks for her hand in a dance, but her dance card is already full.

Eric suddenly sinks to the floor. I gasp, startled, worried that he has fainted from the heat generated with the press of bodies. Instead, he kneels on the ground and encircles my smaller hands with his. This is-! People surrounding us fall silent as they recognize the familiar scene of a proposal, the final stage of courtship.

"My feelings for you transcend everything and my satisfaction is derived from pleasing you. I want to serve you for the rest of my life. I pledge you my loyalty and honor and will cherish and love you forever. My love, will you marry me?"

Eric gazes at me expectantly as I notice ladies whose conversations have been cut short, fans paused in mid-flap as they hold their breaths and wait for my answer. It was already established that we'll marry, so a formal engagement is unnecessary, not to mention embarrassing in front of all these people. My earlier lightheadedness returns and the universe takes on a tinge of unreality. I'm a shinigami who watches people die countless times. Is it possible for me to fall in love and have that love returned by another hardened and beautiful shinigami man? Is it possible for my life to be so chaotic yet so perfect that Eric would elaborately propose no matter who is watching? Do I deserve this much happiness?

I move my lips to form a resolute answer but the wind seems to have left my body. I grip his hands tighter, worried about falling over in a faint. Can everyone see how red my face is, how breathless his declaration has left me? Can everyone tell that there is no woman inside this dress?

I blink, trying to clear my mind of thoughts clamoring for my attention. There is only one I should be focusing on: that of the reciprocated love between Eric and I. Our firm connection isn't weakened by an audience. I finally meet his eyes, and they impart confidence in me so I can stand straighter and relax in his grip. It is only then that I realize how long I've dragged this silence on. "Yes." I'll be his forever husband.

People around us clap lightly, cheering on the happy couple. Eric slides a ring onto my finger. I wonder how many weeks he had to save his wages for that surely real jewel. "Emerald, the color of your beautiful eyes," He breathes. He's been staring at my eyes as long as I've been admiring his? Eric gets to his feet and stands by my side as people congratulate us.

Soon the flow of conversation returns to normal and the dance begins, providing a welcome distraction. "I need to sit down," I say, feeling sweat dribble down my back. "It's kind of overwhelming, you know?" I don't have to explain myself further, and we immediately cut through the swath of people to the chairs bordering the wall.

Eric crouches beside me as my breathing regulates itself while I melt into a velvet chair, closing my eyes and resting against the soft cushion. "Are you happy?" He asks softly.

I read into his question; should he have proposed more privately and not made such a big affair of it? "I'm not good with crowds, but I like seeing you so earnest. And this ring is really pretty. My happiness is unquestionable with our love." I love how I managed to say something so sweet when that's usually Eric's job.

"There'll be a bigger ring for our wedding, of course."

"And I suppose I'll propose to you too. It'll be a surprise, but not as fancy as this."

I open one eye to gauge my fiancé's expression. Eric has an eyebrow upturned, a perfect pose for a portrait of an inquisitive man. "Where, at the office? To make Mr. Spears jealous?"

"What's that about Will?" Grell asks, sidling up to us. "I haven't seen him anywhere. I wanted to dance with that stud! He's probably waiting until midnight, doing his paperwork in some dark corner of the mansion." Grell sits in a chair next to mine, carefully arranging her skirts. She turns to look at me, red hair immediately falling over her shoulders. "I was meaning to say something earlier, but you two disappeared in the crowd. That was very romantic, Eric. I didn't know you had it in you! I mean, you two just looked so _fabulous_, kyah~! My heart was so moved it practically leaped out my chest. Ahn~, I just can't wait until your wedding!"

"Thanks," I answer, placing my ringed hand on top of her bare one. "And I know you want to get married too, so why don't you dance with some handsome guys?"

"Sebas-chan is also hiding at the moment. ," Grell mutters.

"There's humans too," Eric says, gesturing to the bobbing bodies around us.

"None would compare to my beloved Madam, of course." Grell stands up. "Well, it's rude to miss a dance, so I'd better find my partner."

"A waltz," Eric says, also standing up as the music changes. "You know how to dance this, don't you?" His last comment is directed to me. "Unless you still need to rest…"

"I'm fine, just needed a little break." I push the thought from my mind that I'm always the one who gets tired, rising from my chair and following him into the throng of bodies.

A few meters from us I notice Grell being twirled by some handsome man with curly black hair. Even though she'll only be with him for ten minutes, it's still a comfort to have arms wrapped around her back that treat her like a special woman. Grell is diligent when it comes to studying the traits of ladies, so she is able to dance quite naturally and fluidly without a misstep. I'm a quick learn, but we haven't had dances in our office. As long as I don't step on Eric's feet or trip, it'll be fine.

"I like this music," I comment, smiling at the infectiously pleasant sounds produced by the orchestra. This is music that makes dancing move from a want to a need. Eric nods in agreement, placing our bodies in the proper dancing position. After he demonstrates the way I have to move, my feet step in and out as we sway to the music. I giggle as he twirls me, my dress giving me buoyancy. It's easy to forget that I'm over one hundred as my heart feels as light as a child's.

Too soon, I have to switch partners. The music changes, but the dances aren't too difficult to master. I don't make a fool of myself, and although dancing with strangers is weird, it isn't uncomfortable. I glow with the confidence of a new 'fiancée' and my cheeks shine with joy. The only damper is my feet starting to ache; there's the dancing in tight shoes, then after each dance I'm escorted to a seat to rest. How fragile do ladies appear? I glance at my watch when I finally have an empty slot on my dance card; time at last to catch my breath. 10 o'clock: we have two hours and neither Will nor the culprit have shown themselves.

"I haven't been introduced to you but don't see any escorts. A lovely lady should get as much enjoyment out of this ball as possible. Who knows how many more the Phantomhive's can put on?" I glance at the man speaking to me. He is tall and I haven't seen him before, but I'm surprised he is breaking etiquette so readily. "Would you grant me the honor of dancing with you, my little shinigami?"

Shivers jolt down my spine and I bolt out of my seat. "You-!" His hair is silver and eyes bright green; he is the shinigami who is here to kill the child. How could he have found me so quickly? And I'm alone; stopping him is up to me. I can't make a ruckus, so we have to leave the ballroom-but without people around me, he could hurt me just as easily as a child. All I have is a little sickle. My heart sinks in my chest as I realize the hopelessness of this situation and curse my ill luck.

"You recognize me? Why, I'm flattered." He gives a little bow and a ring on his fingers the same bright green as mine glints in the light.

"How could you _murder_ a little girl?" I accuse, anger shaking my voice, now dropping any pretenses of femininity. "Deserter!"

"Is that any way to start a conversation? Those words are most unpleasant." Nevertheless, a smile of amusement widens his cheeks. I notice a jagged scar traversing across his nose and am reassured of this man's danger. With a leer twisting his angled face, the traitorous shinigami whispers, "But shouldn't you be afraid?"

I gasp as his words mirror my thoughts and take a weary step backwards, bumping into the chair behind me. My eyes dart from side to side as I contemplate calling for help. But what good would that do? It seems I have been stranded in a sea of humans…

"Now, all I asked for was a dance," He continues, oblivious to my plotting. The shinigami holds a bony hand out to me expectantly.

"But…I'm actually male," I say, attempting to distract him while trying to come up with a plan of escape.

"Humans and shinigami are interesting regardless of their gender. How lucky for us!" He smiles in a way uncannily similar to Grell's. "But I forgot introductions, how silly of me. You may call me the Undertaker. Now may I have this dance, Mr.…?"

"Slingby. Alan Slingby," I answer distractedly, only half listening to his words while my mind seeks the nearest beeline to an exit. I am brought back to reality as I realize that I just gave myself Eric's last name.

There! I duck away from the Undertaker's grip and adrenaline pushes me through a path that materialized a moment ago. Wind ruffles the dancer's clothing as I dart past. I cringe at the sharp gasp of a lady after I accidentally trod on her slippered foot. I don't know what I'm doing, but I have to get help-_now_. I finger my engagement ring. "Eric!" Please come find me, quickly…

Rough hands grasp my shoulders and pull me around to face the Undertaker once again. "Now, now, we can't have you ruining the game quite so quickly. I wanted to have a little _fun_ first. But if others are with you, that makes it difficult. I'll have to take care of you, won't I? A few preparatory swings of my scythe before that girl's soul is smashed into oblivion."

The way he so casually discusses murder and doesn't even remember the victim's name provokes a surge of anger in me. Even if this shinigami has gone insane after quitting, his actions are inexcusable. Before my hands can strike his clothing in an attempt to push him away, he grabs them, long fingernails scratching me. "It isn't polite for a lady to treat her partner so," He says, reaching inside his cloak with the other hand. My eyes widen in palpable fear as he pulls out a dark vial.

"Eric!" I gasp again, an unheard plea for help, as he uncorks the vial with his teeth and waves it under my nose. My limbs suddenly feel heavy and I slump forward into the mad shinigami's arms. To humans, it would look like a lady swooning on her feet, so the man would promptly escort her from the room. They wouldn't suspect it to be abduction.

"Oh, that isn't strong enough to knock you out. How forgetful of me! My, this thing called age makes fools of us all." He is probably the oldest being on the planet, besides demons like Sebastian of course. The Undertaker could be four hundred years old. It isn't a surprise that he can render me useless in the span of ten minutes, although it is quite a shame. If I get out of this alive, I'll have to ask Eric and Grell to teach me how to fight.

As I find myself wondering if the Undertaker chose his name due to some mortuary position, I realize that I still have my brain, although my body has become senseless. Panic clenches my heart as he drags me from the room, and no one gives us a second glance. Soon we are alone, and it is almost silent in the abandoned cloak room. Except for the small figure in the corner-the little girl we are here to save!

The shinigami walks over to her and strokes her hair while she plays with his scythe left lying on the floor. Reminiscent of a human scythe except for the-probably real-skull and ribcage decorating it, I know his weapon can cleave anyone in two. My scythe is more for reaping souls than fighting, and a sickle will do as much good as Grell's safety scissors. I send out damsel in distress signals to Eric, praying that someone will come before anything else happens. A single tear rolls down my cheek at the poor child's predicament.

Everyone looks up as the door opens again. I hope some human lady hasn't wandered in here now; she could be a victim too. Grell gasps as she sees me limp on the floor and takes in the shinigami playing with the child. She probably planned to fix her makeup and wouldn't expect the climax to happen two hours early. "I can't move…" I explain weakly. "This is him and the child! Get help!" Grell nods, determination setting her jaw, and ducks from the room, giving orders to her stunned escort Ronald Knox. As he slips into the crowd to find Eric or William (although our boss has so far remained invisible), Grell unsheathes her sickle without hesitation.

The Undertaker stands up slowly, back arching so silver hair dramatically spills over his broad shoulders. "Ah, I recognize you," He says to Grell, staring at her with chartreuse eyes.

"I'm not a famous actress quite yet…" She replies hesitantly, fingers clutching the scythe tightly. I can guess her thoughts; Grell wants to see blood flow and wonders why he is bothering to talk first.

"You masqueraded as Angelina Dalles' butler," He says, placing a bony finger to his lips. "That was quite a wonderful mess you made. It was such trouble to clean her up after all the other women you two killed. The hole in her stomach stretched my creativity to stuff before dolling her up for the funeral. That death must have been brutally painful."

Grell responds to the taunts, although questionably intentional, by lunging forward with her weapon. She wildly slashes at his face, but he sidesteps her and Grell crashes into the wall. "Ngh!" She pants, brushing red hair from her eyes. "How _dare_ you aim for a lady's face!"

The Undertaker darts to my side and wraps his arms around my throat. "Don't forget I have a captive…two of them…" The little girl is dazed from the flurried fights and rubs her eyes. I struggle for breath as his fingers squeeze my neck. Damn…where are Eric and William and Knox? What's taking them so long? Grell's red hair starts to turn blue and I despair of truly dying this time.

Grell throws her scythe like a boomerang and it stabs the Undertaker through an elbow. He releases his hold of me and stands to face her. I gasp for breath once free and watch him provocatively lick the blood dripping down the crook of his elbow. The shinigami man pulls out the sickle in his arm with a squelching sound and my breath hitches in my throat. I attempt to flex my fingers and join in the fray but my mobility is still impaired.

Now weaponless, Grell lunges for his big scythe still lying on the floor. Her fingers grasp the metal rod as he jumps above her. "Look out!" I gasp, but it's too late to heed my warning when his black boots come crashing down on Grell's back. The child starts to wail and curls into a ball. Grell screams as his weight crushes her and lets go of the weapon.

Finally, Ronald enters the room, followed by Eric. Ron hoists a suitcase from the floor and throws it at the Undertaker. It succeeds in distracting him, and he calmly steps off Grell to face his new opponent. Eric spots me first and stands in front of me protectively. "What's going on, Alan?" He asks while pulling out his sickle.

"He-the Undertaker-is planning to kill that child," I quickly explain. "He poisoned me so I can't move, but I'll be fine later. Please go help them." Both Grell and Ron have been stripped of their weapons, but they have flames in their eyes and struggle against the clear beating the powerful shinigami is giving them. It's obvious they won't last much longer.

Although concern for me darkens my love's face, he follows my directions and starts fighting the Undertaker. The child's whimpering and the clanging of weapons and the dull thunk of flesh being hit and the sounds emitted in battle clog my ears. Sweat and blood and fear overload my nostrils. If only I could move, if only I could help them…

I watch in horror as Ronald is slammed into the wall and stops moving, perhaps unconscious, perhaps worse. Grell staggers back as blood pours from her wounded leg and emits piteous moans to rival the child's. Only Eric is in a condition to fight, lithely dodging the Undertaker's lethal scythe, counterattacking with a few nicks of his own.

Eric's sickle is dashed from his hand, and the two shinigami face each other, panting from the exertion of fighting. The Undertaker smiles and traces the fresh blood staining his scythe. I know Eric will not give up even without a weapon. He'd fight to protect us, even if he had to sacrifice his own life in the process. That's just the kind of man he is. That's just the man I fell in love with. And now, on the eve of our proposal, to watch some rogue murder him along with my coworkers and an innocent human child in cold blood?

No! Grell wobbles to stand up, gritting her teeth against the pain, but she has already been neutralized. I have not even attempted to fight. Some vial cannot eliminate me so completely! I can't always be the weakest shinigami!

A fierce anger instills adrenaline in me and I am finally mobile again, effects of the poison shaken off. Eric stands defensively as if to block the scythe being swung at him and I jump between them, pulling my sickle out of my corset. Eric tackles me and the scythe passes an inch above his head as we crash to the floor.

I look up in fear as I hear deliberate footsteps and a scythe being dragged across the linoleum. My love and I are a tangle of arms and legs on the floor and we cannot muster a defensive position in the time it will take the Undertaker to cull us with his scythe. Now he will take our souls and the child's. We have failed. Shouldn't Sebastian have noticed this fight? Maybe he doesn't care as long as his master's soul is protected.

"Eric, I'm so sorry," I say, remorse bringing tears to my voice. Those cannot be my last words. "I love you."

Eric kneels above my prostrate form, staring at the Undertaker. His pointy boots are in my line of eyesight, probably the last thing I'll ever see. "You've only come for one soul tonight," Eric says, pleading with the insane shinigami. I cringe at his broken, defeated voice, knowing that if I didn't interfere, the fight may not have been lost. "Please, just take mine. My cinematic record is interesting enough to spare the rest."

"My little shinigami, don't you understand? You're _all_ going to die here."

I close my eyes and press my cheek against the cold floor of Ciel Phantomhive's mansion, trying to brace myself for the fatal blow of that scythe.

"William T. Spears, how nice of you to join us," The Undertaker says sarcastically as our boss enters the room. I gasp and sit up, surprised at their acquaintance but also his impeccable timing. Relief floods Eric's face and I sag against him gratefully. I have faith that my boss will end this fight so we can rescue the child.

Our boss narrows his eyes and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "You are a traitor, and as such, I'll have to kill you."

"Didn't you dress up to reap that girl?" The silver-haired man gestures to the collapsed human child. "After all, she'll die tonight."

"However, you have interfered with her cinematic record. That sin is unforgivable. _You_ are the one who must die now." I shiver at Will's chilled tone. William slams his scythe into the Undertaker's. I wonder how both snuck weapons into the ball? Will steps forward and jabs his scythe into the other's chest, but the move is quickly parried. However, they seem more evenly matched than we were. How can my boss be stronger than Eric and Grell combined?

Blow after blow of their weapons are exchanged as we sit in silence and awe, too injured and listless to join in. The Undertaker drops his smile and narrows his eyes when he has to seriously fight. Will whacks his head with his scythe. The Undertaker cups his face as the lacy scar reopens and blood drips into his eyes. Will doesn't miss a beat and crunches the Undertaker's exposed hand with his death scythe.

"I shall leave," He declares, wrenching out of our boss' grip. Skin tears off, exposing bone and blood, and I am reassured of his craziness. He didn't even groan in pain, seeming to enjoy being ravaged. "This child is not worth it. There will be many more cinematic records for me to rewrite, and you'll only be able to clean up afterwards. I hope to see you at a better time, William."

This time the Undertaker manages to block the arc of Will's weapon as he jumps into the air. He propels himself towards the window and smashes it open with his scythe. As stained glass rains onto his body like jagged sickles, he disappears from sight in this strategic retreat. I knew Will would be able to fight him off.

As our boss moves to follow the Undertaker, Eric strides to him and puts a heavy hand on his shoulder. "It's not worth it," He warns. "He's too powerful. Look, you saved the child, more than any of us could do."

"I failed…again…" William whispers, hand going slack on his scythe. Again?

"No, Will, you didn't fail then," Grell says quietly. "Stop beating yourself up over the past. I've forgiven you even on that day." What? Grell has some past with William that I don't know about? But she tells me all her secrets…

"I'm sorry," Eric continues. "I know you must feel horrible, but no one could have stopped him."

"What did he mean, 'many more cinematic records for me to rewrite'? He's not going to give up?" I ask worriedly, but no one heeds my words, too preoccupied with their own dramas.

"I don't need your pity!" Will says harshly, jerking away from my fiancé's comforting hand. Eric sighs and steps away from our angry boss.

"Will…" Grell is kneeling on the ground, dainty hands folded on her lap and an empathetic, understanding, motherly look softening her face.

"Nor yours, Grell!" William glares at her until her eyes brim with tears. Why is he being so affronting? This incident must have really hit a nerve in him; losing is probably a new concept to that shinigami. "I'll have to report to the higher-ups about this. Do you realize how much trouble you all cause me?" Hey, _this_ incident wasn't our fault. "Good night." Will pushes open the door and presumably leaves to catch a carriage back home.

"Can you stand?" Eric asks Grell, offering a hand to her.

I then remember the two people unconscious in this room. I check on Ronald first since he was injured, whereas the child just fainted from the shock. The back of Ron's neck is stained with blood, and I see he was cut below the collar. Thankfully it is not very deep. I shake his shoulder but his head just lolls to the side. I sense a presence over my shoulder and look up into Grell's concerned eyes. "He won't wake up," I explain.

Grell takes off her high heel and whacks Ron in the face with it. His body slumps to the floor. "Don't do that!" I reprimand. "It could just aggravate his injury!" I wish I learned more about helping injured people; taking a doctor's course would be very beneficial.

"Is he unconscious?" Eric asks. In his arms is the child, still fainted.

"Is she okay?"

Eric nods. "She'll wake up in time. But I'm worried about Knox; he was slashed with that scythe." Eric bends down to check on Ronald's vital signs.

"Scaring a child; what a jerk, and such a waste for an attractive man," Grell complains. "I'm so sorry; I wouldn't have invited you to the ball if I knew it would be ruined like that."

"It's not your fault," I say. "Will shouldn't have gotten so mad at us."

Grell sighs, retying her heel. "I wish I could tell you, Alan, but I've been sworn to secrecy. Just…there are some things you can't know about William. He's not as cold as it seems, but he's bottled his emotions since that day…"

Before I can ask for elaboration or at least hints to satisfy my curiosity, Eric asks for water. There's a refreshment room nearby, and Grell's leg is wounded, so I volunteer to get some. Thankfully, I navigate my way through the crowded corridors of the Phantomhive mansion without getting lost or running into humans. I've stolen the punch bowl, but I'm sure this liquid will succeed in revitalizing poor Ronald.

I dump the juice onto his head, dampening the blonde hair. His eyes blink open and he splutters, coughing up blood. Grell silently offers a handkerchief and Ron wipes off his face. "Senpais, what happened? Did you stop the baddie?"

"Yes," I say, closing my eyes. "Everything's fine now."

"Well, who's that child? Where are her parents?" He continues, oblivious to the tension circulating among us.

"I don't know. Her parents are probably dead," Grell answers sadly.

"Then what are we supposed to do with her?"

"We can't just _leave_ her here," I interject.

"I guess we could bring her to an orphanage, unless she remembers where she's from," Eric decides.

I shake my head. "No. Orphanages are bad places." I've reaped children's souls and their cinematic records showed evidence of mistreatment leading to their death at orphanages.

"Well, what else can we do?" Eric argues. "I'm sorry, Alan, but we don't have another choice." I bristle at his defiance but can't invent another solution. "We should catch a carriage home and bring the child to a home tomorrow, when she wakes up."

We leave the Phantomhive mansion without running into its master or his butler, making our way to a carriage waiting in front without further confrontation. Grell has to limp with one arm over my shoulders but knows this injury isn't serious. Grell claims she has a maternal privilege to carry the child, and Eric hands her over without complaint. Grell stares lovingly at the girl, parting her brown locks to gaze at her soft face. "I'd love to be her mother…"

"You don't have time to care for a child," Eric cuts in. "Also, there's no way Will would let a human be raised in the shinigami building."

"Don't be jealous just because you can't give birth to your own child! I can't either, you know."

"Look, this child is not ours. We saved her, but we can't raise her," Eric says tiredly, sensing the fight flare in Grell as our carriage rumbles over cobblestone.

Ron smiles. "I think that would be fun, raising a child."

"It's a lot more work than you think," Grell argues. "You wouldn't know the half of it. You couldn't even change her diapers-"  
"She's ten."

"Or feed her. You couldn't feed her and you wouldn't know how to tuck her into bed and sing a lullaby." Grell raises her nose, annoyed, and lets out a huff.

Ronald smirks. "That doesn't sound so difficult."

"Children are people! You have to cater to their every need, but it's a fine balance between pleasing them and spoiling them. Look, I'm the only shinigami here qualified to be a mother." Grell folds her arms across her petite chest and glares at her coworker.

The child on Grell's lap starts to move and Grell gasps. She opens her eyes and sits up, climbing off Grell's lap to a seat of her own. "Who are you people?" Her gaze is focused on me and my heart skips in my chest. Those eyes, a soft purple, remind me of the Erica flower. Sudden jealousy flares and I wish that I could raise that child instead of Grell. Eric said we could raise a child, so why not this one?

"More importantly, who are _you_?" Eric interrogates. "Do you remember your name? Parents? Past?"

She shakes her head slowly. "I don't remember anything. Who _am_ I? What's going on? Why are you all staring at me?"

"We're-" Eric and I start at the same time. He looks to me to continue. I clear my throat, noticing Grell's expectant gaze. "Um, we're…well…" How much can I tell her? "We're shinigami. You probably don't know what that means, but that's because you're human."

"And you're not?" She says skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

"None of us are, so it's probably best to return you to the human world," Eric explains.

Grell's jaw drops, outraged. "No way! I get a say in this too! I'd like to raise you, as your mother."

"But Grell, there isn't another father or mother, and she should have two parents. So I don't think you should raise her," I interrupt.

Grell gasps. "Alan, you should be on my side! What's gotten into you?"

"You definitely don't want to be around this 24/7," Ronald comments, staring at the girl awkwardly.

The child tilts her head. "If you're not human…what are you?" She demands, still preoccupied with that thought.

"Shinigami. We reap people's souls when they die. You know how your life flashes before your eyes when you die? That's 'cause we're viewing your cinematic record," Ronald explains. He pulls out his sickle. "See? We use these Death Scythes. Pretty cool, huh?" The child reaches for it in awe, but Ron quickly stashes the weapon.

Eric leans his head on the backboard. "Great. You just had to tell her, didn't you? Now _someone_ has to raise her because she knows things a human can't know."

I clear my throat. "Well, Eric and I are getting married soon, and we want to raise a child. So can we be your dads?" Grell's expression darkens, but the child just looks amused at the parental battle revolving around her.

"I don't care, as long as you take good care of me. So you're Alan, and you're Eric." She points to us in turn. "My fathers. I'm fine with it." She smiles and crosses her legs.

"But you need a name too," I muse, understanding the significance of naming our daughter. "Your name will be…Erica."


End file.
